


Eyes On Fire

by sparrowshellcat



Category: The Covenant
Genre: F/M, Genderbending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:19:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/pseuds/sparrowshellcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month ago, Caleb killed Chase. He's come back from the dead to destroy Caleb completely - by making him fall in love with him. The only problem is, Chase didn't exactly expect to like being in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For more fic and art, you can follow me on Tumblr! [sparrowshellcat](http://sparrowshellcat.tumblr.com)

**Title:** Eyes On Fire  
 **Author:** [](http://sparrowshellcat.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sparrowshellcat.livejournal.com/)**sparrowshellcat**  
 **Fandom:** The Covenant  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Chase Collins/Caleb Danvers  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Words:** 21,025  
 **Warnings:** MC with deep-seated abandonment and gender issues. Self-inflicted verbal abuse.

 **Summary:** A month ago, Caleb killed Chase. He's come back from the dead to destroy Caleb completely - by making him fall in love with him. The only problem is, Chase didn't exactly expect to like being in love.

Hell, Chase decided, wasn’t other people.

It was being killed by morons.

The details of his fight with Caleb were fuzzy to him now, but one thing that he _did_ remember distinctly was that Caleb had gained an extra dose of power, and then, in the most idiotic move a member of their covenant had made since betraying John Putnam in the first place, threw Chase backwards into the burning barn.

That had confirmed two things for Chase. First: that Caleb was a moron. Second: that he was right in presuming that the Covenant hadn’t bothered to read their Book of Damnation very closely.

The five of them were witches.

_Elemental_ witches.

So by throwing Chase back into the burning barn, Caleb had saved his enemy’s life. He had effectively thrown him into the arms of the only mother he had ever loved, and the flames drew their prodigal-elemental son close and safe and hid him in the ashes of their aftermath.

It took Chase a month to come back to himself. A month to slowly and painfully use vague bits of his own magic, scattered at first, to rebuild himself from the literal ashes he’d become, like a slow phoenix. If the Covenant had been smart, they would’ve destroyed, or at least scattered, the ashes of the Putnam barn, so that he couldn’t do this. Of course, as Chase had already realized, they were morons. So they didn’t.

It took a lot of magic. A lot of using. When Chase finally awoke, naked and trembling and sooty in the snow dusted remains of the Putnam barn, he knew without finding a mirror that he had aged.

And he also knew now that it didn’t matter.

He could age.

But Caleb had to pay.

 

\---

 

“My… god…”

Vanity had never really been Chase Collin’s (Pope? Putnam?) vice. Arrogance, yes. Vengeful, oh definitely. But not vanity.

All the same, he couldn’t take his eyes off the mirror now. Poking and prodding at his own skin, he keened softly. He thought he’d braced himself for this, but no preparation had prepared him for crow’s feet and hair that was more grey than blonde. Aging quickly had meant he’d maintained things like his eighteen year old weight and musculature, thank god, but he wagered that he was physically at _least_ forty.

“Not a _bad_ forty,” he conceded to the mirror. “But I barely recognize myself.”

He waited for a moment, head cocked, as though waiting for a response, then shrugged and left the bathroom.

Stepping over the body of the homeowner – he really ought to do something about that before it started to stink – he grabbed a pair of jeans from the dead man’s drawer and started to plan.

First – he had to figure out what had happened to ‘him’. What lie had the Covenant made to destroy him while he was gone?

Second – finding out what had happened to Caleb.

Third – what to do to destroy Caleb.

Shrugging on a dead man’s shirt and coat, his eyes flared easily to make a pair of his shoes fit his feet – was it a bad thing that he fell so easily into magic, now, as if it wasn’t a conscious choice, but rather a reflex? – and slipped outside.

Aside from the soft dusting of snow like powdered sugar across the rooftops, nothing had changed about Ipswich. It was the same little sleepy coastal town he’d first walked into in August, confident and cocksure and completely unprepared for the power of stupidity. Teens he recognized as Spenser’s students ran past him, laughing, and not one of them recognized him. At one point, it was even Reid Garwin that bumped his shoulder, arm in arm with a girl he vaguely recalled from Biology, and it took great willpower not to just fry the bastard where he stood.

It _did_ tell him something, though, as he turned to watch Reid and the girl, whispering to each other, laughing.

They thought he was dead.

The Covenant may be idiots – and they _were_ – but Caleb was also paranoid. And if he had the slightest inkling that Chase hadn’t died in that fire, he would have all of the other Covenant members on high alert at all times, looking for Chase Collins – or anyone who looked like an older Chase Collins.

“Yes,” Chase smirked. “That _does_ make things easier.”

 

\---

  


“You don’t say,” he drawled.

Kira giggled, batting her eyelashes at him as she rested her chin on her hand above her glass. He’d known, back before, that Kira was generally considered to be the school slut, but he hadn’t expected that with a single beer and the smile of a middle aged man that she’d be putty in his hands. _Daddy issues_ , he decided.

“You’re just so _funny_ , Mr. Pope,” she giggled again, the insipidly high pitched sound drilling into his brain.

“Please,” he smiled, easily falling into the old mask. “Call me John.”

“John,” she breathed, tiptoeing her fingers up his forearm. “I would _love_ to call you John… anytime.”

Swallowing his feeling of disgust, Chase forced himself to remember why he was doing this. He _needed_ this information. And if he had to endure the clumsy, drunken, awkward advances of an underaged skank to get that, so be it. If she didn’t give him the information he needed this way, it was easy enough to torture it out of her later. “You seem like a girl in the know, Kira,” he lied, easily, words dripping like honey off his tongue. He was good at this. “Someone with her finger on the pulse of the area.”

She giggled, pink. “I _am_!”

“That’s great,” he smiled, genuine this time, which might be why it looked a little shark like. “So what juicy rumours do you know? I heard a student _died_ at your school.”

Her eyes got wide, and suddenly, Kira wasn’t in seduction mode, she was in animated gossip mode. “ _Two_! This year alone!”

“Two?”

Kira nodded eagerly. “The first was this new transfer, Patrick something or other. He overdosed at our party at the Dells, start of the year. Idiot,” she rolled her eyes.

“You said two,” Chase pressed, leaning forward eagerly.

“Yeah.” To Chase’s surprise, a dreamy, almost glazed expression crossed her face, and Kira sighed, and, like a teenager in the sixties might have said the name Ringo Starr, said, “Chase Collins.”

Bemused by her reaction, he repeated, “Chase Collins?”

“Ooh, yeah! He was a transfer too, new guy, got on the swim team right away. He was smart, and talented, and sweet, and funny, and oooh god so hot…” she trailed off, distracted.

Flattering, but not helpful. “Kira. What happened to him?”

“Oh! Right!” she looked back at him, then, to his surprise, started to tear up. “He was friends with the   
Sons of Ipswich, you know, the founding families? Well, they were having a get together thing at the Danver’s old place before the Fall Fest dance. On their way back to school, they realized that lightning had hit the old Putnam barn, and it was on fire. One of the girls from school was there – I dunno, taking pictures or some shit.”

Chase _was_ relieved to see that someone else realized that Sarah Wenhem was a stupid bitch. “What then?”

“They stopped to tell her to leave, that it wasn’t safe, but… she was stuck inside. So Chase, he – he went inside to _save_ her! And he did, but… he got t-trapped, and…” Kira snuffled, choking back tears. “He was a _hero_.”

Chase gaped at her. “A hero.”

Snuffling, wiping at her eyes, Kira nodded. “He was a real hero. He gave his life to save her!”

Completely confused by this positive spin on his ‘death’, he said slowly, “Who told you that story?”

“Caleb!” her eyes lit up again, flip flopping between extreme emotions like a fish out of water. “Caleb Danvers, that is. He gave the eulogy at Chase’s service. It was… it was _beautiful_. So noble and honourable. And Sarah even played a song on the violin for him. Between you and me,” she lowered her voice. “She was pretty terrible.”

“M’sure it was,” he mumbled.

“Hey, you okay?” she blinked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, of course. Say… tell me more about Chase.”

 

\---

  


Chase had read once that the strangest thing in the world that a man could experience was going to his own funeral. Huckleberry Finn, or Tom Sawyer, or someone had said that. He wasn’t going to his own funeral, and he wasn’t hearing Caleb Danvers of all people giving his eulogy, and he wasn’t hearing the bitch that he’d tried to kill more than once playing violin for him, but he _was_ standing on the ground in front of his own gravestone, feeling a little… surreal.

There it was, smooth and grey stone, with the name “CHASE COLLINS” carved in the front, dates listing him forever as eighteen. Just ascended, too young to have actually burnt out.

It was an unnerving feeling.

Frowning, he looked away from the gravestone to realize something that made his gut clench. The stone beside his looked older, but the burial itself looked about as new. “WILLIAM CALEB DANVERS” it said, and he swallowed. The sons of bitches had put him right beside Caleb’s father. They’d put him in the Covenant plot, and he hadn’t even realized.

He supposed that others might have felt flattered. Might have thought “well, they must have forgiven me for my actions after my death and realized that I was, in fact, a valid member of their Covenant all along”.

It just made Chase’s blood boil.

It was like an insult, to rub it in his nose after his death, to say that he hadn’t been a member of their Covenant during life because they still held a grudge against his ancestor for no _real_ reason – after all, John Putnam had acted out a little, but he had never once threatened the Covenant itself or the other members of it – but now that he was dead, they could say that he was one of them, that he was their brother.

He snarled, fists clenched, and stormed out of the cemetery.

“I am going to – no, I am _not_ going to kill him.” Chase muttered to himself as he marched, grinding his teeth. “Death is too good for them. Way too good for them. I need to _crush_ them. Destroy them. I should fucking _out_ them.”

Stopping dead on the street, his eyes widened with pleasure at that idea. “Yes… yes… I should out them. Tell everyone they’re witches! Ooh, that’s a good idea… good… but that’s not good enough.”

Grumbling to himself, Chase started walking again, frowning to himself as he tried to think of the perfect revenge. He needed something devastating, something that would crush them, make them putty in his hands. Well. He’d already done that to Pogue, on that back road a month ago. The thought made him laugh, actually, as he remembered the younger man’s cries of pain and the tears he had fought to not shed. That _had_ been worth it.

“I could always find Caleb in a back alley somewhere,” Chase chuckled, “But that’s not terribly original now, is it?”

He had to destroy his soul, his heart, his mind, not just his body. Really, he could take Sarah out of the picture again, but that would just make Caleb hate him more, and well… Caleb hated him already. He needed something better. Maybe he could hire someone to seduce Caleb away from the bitch, or –

Or _he_ could do it. And since he was pretty sure Caleb either wasn’t into guys or wasn’t about to admit publically that he was into guys, he needed to be a _girl_ to do it.

Chase’s eyes lit up with orange flames, and he laughed. “ _Perfect_.”

 

\---

  


Sitting in the bathroom, dead man’s laptop open on the counter beside him, Chase frowned at his reflection, considering it. He looked _old_. This would never do.

His eyes flared orange than sank straight through to black as he watched his facial features shift and move slightly, tightening the skin, brown speeding through his hair like a wave of mud, until he looked exactly as he remembered looking the night that he “died”. He considered himself, frowning. Chase could feel the magic surging slowly under his skin now, working constantly to maintain this appearance. This much using would age him quicker, he knew that, but it was helping his addiction maintain itself pretty damn well, and if he aged… well. He was dead anyway, wasn’t he? So long as he took Caleb with him, who cared?

Glancing away from the mirror, he glanced at the laptop, frowning. Looking for pictures of naked women had been frustrating. He didn’t want to see them doing naughty things to themselves or others (or having naughty things done to them) and safe search had given him nothing. But a stockpile of old medical photos helped, so now he just had to figure out how to make the young, masculine image in the mirror that he’d created for himself into the young, nubile image on the screen.

Sure, he’d considered just giving himself boobs and shaving really close and putting on a wig – didn’t that work for teenagers in all of those shitty after school specials? – but that would never pass muster against a cadre of witches. Never.

So he could cover himself in illusion, but to maintain that would be murder. He was going to have to actually change his body. Otherwise he’d burn out in a matter of a couple weeks, and if he was going to complete this job, there was a good chance that he was going to have to lie for a lot longer than the week it took to get from zero to sixty last time. Sure, he was a witch. He could reverse it if he needed to, but…

Besides, he was going to have to lay low. If he used too much after this, the others would realize there was a fifth witch back in town. So he could blitz this one time, blame it on Reid or Tyler being jackasses somewhere, then he couldn’t use again. Not if he could help it, that was. Caleb was ascended now, he would sense the power. So that meant he had to change now.

Chase glowered at his reflection, pretty sure that this might be the last time he saw it. After all, this was probably going to be a suicide mission, and he was going to die a girl.

“You better appreciate this effort, golden boy,” he grumbled.

Standing up, he cracked his jaw, then started working.

Structural changes first.

Chase’s eyes flared from orange to black, then he cried out in pain as he felt the bones in his legs break, then reform again, slightly longer, making him both taller and more leggy. He wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t think his own were too short for this to work. Bracing himself on the counter, he screamed out in agony as his pelvis shattered, and it was only the massive amount of power that he was surging through his body and through the air around him that kept his body upright as the bone fragments reset themselves further apart and bone surged to fill the gaps.

Sobbing in pain, he leaned against the counter, forehead on the cool tile as he waited for himself to recover. Would he have been able to stand this pain if he hadn’t already burned alive a month ago?

Finally, he pushed himself back up, and panting, finished some of the smaller body structural changes. Shoulders back, ribcage smaller and more compact. The hands and feet were almost worst than the pelvis had been – he should’ve tackled it one bone at a time, but he wanted it done faster, and shattering every bone in his hands and feet to make them reform themselves smaller was murder.

Changing the other layers was easier – forcing his skin to reform to a new, curvier skeleton, forming entirely new muscle groups as his eyes burned black and he grew breasts – he even, with great reluctance, changed himself from male to female sexually as well. After all, if he lived, he could change it back. But if he died this way… well, who cared if he had a dick when he took his revenge, anyway? Finally even the adam’s apple was gone, and he was finished, except for his face.

Hands – delicate, womanly hands – curled on the edge of the sink, Chase looked at his face in the mirror, panting. His body was perfect. Curvy, graceful looking, perfect woman. But his face…

It looked like something out of a freakshow. A perfectly masculine head – five o’clock shadow and thick brows and square jaw and broad flat nose – had been tossed on top of a perfectly feminine body – soft pale skin and perky breasts and childbirthing hips and fucking cute _toes_ for gods sake. It was like someone had screwed up in the mannequin department, hired a kid on acid, and told him to recreate the people in his head for use in American Eagle’s store windows. A disaster.

But this was the hard part.

First, it was hard because Chase had never _really_ considered what he’d look like as a girl, beyond this whole fiasco. And even if he had thought to do it, he wasn’t pretty. He was rugged. Manly. His face just didn’t lend itself to “look at me I could be a chick if I stayed home and did my pretty face and spent my nights singing with the band.”

Scowling at his face in the mirror, he leaned closer, trying to figure it out. He could narrow the nose, narrow the jaw… but would that actually do _anything_ , or just make him… well, look like Chase with a narrowed nose and jaw?

“I can’t believe I’m about to fucking do this,” he grumbled, wincing. He’d forgotten that he’d tightened his vocal cords to raise the pitch of his voice, and it sounded goddamn weird.

Scowling, he pulled up the internet, eyes flaring to bypass the security on the internet – why hadn’t the home’s original owner saved his passwords or something? It was like he was _expecting_ to get murdered and have the murderer just walk into his home and start living there, and wanted to make things as difficult for them as possible – and logged onto Facebook. Ignoring the hundreds of well wishing posts on his “Wall” and feeling like an idiot, he stuck one of the insipid photos that he had put there to seem “normal” into one of the moronic games he remembered someone telling him about months ago at school, and waited.

The screen had some damn foolish cheerful slogan with “ _Who’s Your Celebrity Twin?!”_ emblazoned on it, but finally it pulled up a pile of results.

“Brendan Frasier?” he snorted, shaking his head. “Oh yeah, I _really_ look like Brendan fucking Frasier, give me a break… let’s see… ooh. What’s this?”

“Jeisa Chiminazzo.” He read aloud, snickering. “Nice name, chick.”

But a quick Googling of her name confirmed that she sort of _did_ look like a female version of him. And if she was a model from wherever-it-was-she-came-from there was no chance she was going to waltz into Nicky’s and ruin the ruse. Besides, Chase, standing there half changed into a woman so that he could take revenge on a man that had only ever hurt him because he’d tried to kill and maim him and his family and friends first, was not about to have moral quandaries about the meaning of stealing someone else’s face.

“All right, Jeisa… sixty eight percent match is enough for me.”

His jaw snapped then, though, which made speaking to himself and the mirror a little more difficult, though he managed a gurgling howl as the magic knit his bones back together and he focused on reshaping himself completely.

 

\---

  


Chase sauntered into Nicky’s, still a little unsteady. He hadn’t thought that changing his physical appearance would affect things like balance, but apparently trying hard to be realistic and full on accurate about this made a real difference. He felt so less… solid. Like a really good breeze could just knock him over, or something. Nose curling a little at that thought, he slid between two tables, and scowled as he bumped into things he normally never would have bumped into.

How did girls _handle_ it? There were curves everywhere! Something was always curving out while something else curved in… it was weird and slightly confusing. Unconsciously crossing his arms over his chest to protect the soft squishy chest – which also curved out, and he kept bumping into people with it, which was awkward as all hell – Chase headed back towards the tables the Sons of Ipswich usually sat at. To his relief, Caleb, Pogue and Sarah were sitting there, and a quick glance around the rest of the bar confirmed what he had suspected – Reid and Tyler were bent over the pool table, hustling Aaron _again_ – was that guy a complete idiot? – and giggling to themselves. Taking a deep breath, he set his hands on the back of one of the other chairs at Caleb’s table, and smiled.

Hopefully not maniacally.

“Hi.”

All three turned to look at him, blinking.

“…hi?” Caleb offered. “Do we… know you?”

“Sorry, I don’t think we were properly introduced…” Chase offered his hand, mentally having to remind himself that, yes, it _was_ supposed to be so very girly. “I’m Cherry. New student at Spensers. The provost told me that you were the person to talk to if I really wanted to know everything important about the school.”

“Oh!” Caleb’s whole face relaxed, and there was light in his dark eyes. “That’s great, it’s always nice to meet a new student. So I guess you know that I’m Caleb… this is Pogue, and my girlfriend, Sarah.”

“Pogue,” he nodded, smirking a little. He couldn’t help it. Every time he looked at the suspicious blonde – who was regarding him with a marked level of suspicion again – he could only think of the look on his face as he was crouched on that back road, screaming that he better not have hurt Kate. Interesting to note that the pretty girl wasn’t here with him now, was she? Glancing to Caleb’s other side, he schooled his expression into a neutral smile. “Sarah.”

“Hi, Cherry,” Sarah smiled up at him. “Sit down?”

“Sure,” he agreed, and sat, then realized that Sarah was looking at him odd, and quickly crossed his legs. Damn. _How_ did girls deal with this bullshit? “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She beamed, and he had to fight himself from gagging.

“So Cherry,” Caleb smiled at him, brightly. “You’re new, then. Same year as us?”

“Mmmhmm. I’m a senior too. And no, I’ve never lived here before, before you ask,” he smirked. This conversation felt… forced. Stiff. It was frustrating, because he needed for them to feel like he was a part of their world, an approachable member of their community before he could put the rest of his plan into effect. After all, it was hard to crush a man’s heart if he thinks you’re a dull conversationalist.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he nodded.

They sat in silence for a moment, then someone changed the jukebox, and Joan Jett started playing, loudly. It was like someone had set certain songs to be louder in the damn thing, because lord knows there was no volume control. Last time Chase had heard this song, Sarah had used Caleb like a stripper pole.

_Hmm_ , he thought, as Sarah grinned at Caleb, mischievously, clearly thinking of the same thing.

“Dance with me,” he said, abruptly.

All three of them blinked at him. “Ah…” Caleb started.

_Time to mix things up, just to fuck with their heads._

“Not you,” he grinned, and took Sarah’s hand, tugging her up. “You. C’mon, dance with me.”

“Me?” Sarah squeaked.

“Yeah,” Chase smiled, starting to warm up to this plan. It might work well in his favour, if he could show that he was more than just a pretty face – though oh what a pretty face he _had_ made for himself – and if the current object of desire and the future one were doing something intriguing together… maybe he could speed this process along a tiny bit. “C’mon, Sarah. Dance with me.”

Caleb laughed. “Go on, it’ll be fun.”

“Oh well… all right,” Sarah laughed, and stood, winking at Chase as she let him tug her to the dance floor.

_Slut_.

Chase smirked, and started just vaguely dancing to the music at first, not really dancing with Sarah except that they were still clutching at each other’s hands like life preservers. He had never really learned to dance before – it wasn’t really necessary for a life of revenge – and now that he had a girl’s body, it was considerably more difficult that he had anticipated.

“Here,” Sarah laughed, and he jumped, startled. “Let me help.”

“Ah… sure.” Chase blinked.

The girl stepped closer to him, and set her hands on Chase’s new, curvaceous hips, and began to sway them both. “Not a good dancer, huh?”

Chase flushed slightly, despite himself, and lied, a little, “Not really. But I thought it would be… fun.”

“It is fun,” Sarah smiled, and swung them both a little, fingers curled over Chase’s hips, moving them both across the dance floor. “Think you’re up for a little more actual dancing, rather than just a little shimmying?”

“Sure,” he laughed, starting to realize that his old assessments of this girl had been right all along. She really would give it up for anyone who smiled and paid her enough attention. He was pretty sure that, even as a girl, if he said the right things she would let him do absolutely anything he wanted to do with her. “Sex me up.”

She snorted, and started to actually dance around him.

All Chase could think of was that night a month ago, in this same bar, to the same song, when Sarah had done the same dance. But last time, it had been her boyfriend she was gyrating around and against, almost kissing, hands flitting light and teasing across arms and shoulders. It hadn’t been her boyfriend’s mortal enemy sheathed in the body of an incredibly attractive woman, a woman who wanted to destroy her boyfriend. This time, there was a bit more of a crackle of electricity in the air, and men and women alike across the bar were turning to gape at the scene, surprised and intrigued. He couldn’t blame them. He was hot, Sarah was attractive enough in her own way…

He chanced a glance at the table where Pogue and Caleb still sat.

Pogue was glowering still. God, that man was pissy. Arms crossed over his chest, he watched them with a sour gaze, as though furious that they had chosen to do this and therefore distracted Caleb’s attention from whatever conversation he had been having with the Golden Boy of Ipswich.

Because Caleb _was_ distracted.

Caleb’s eyes were riveted on them, and they were wide, as though he couldn’t quite seem to convince his brain that what he was seeing was in fact, real. He kept licking his lips and swallowing as though trying to keep himself from drooling, and he couldn’t look away.

Pleased with this turn of events, Chase threw himself a little more whole heartedly into the ridiculous dance, throwing his head back as he sang along, laughing, swaying and swinging with Sarah, at one point actually grinding their hips together teasingly. Even Sarah was looking up at him with an air of adoration now, which made him feel powerful, in control. Master of his own domain – or rather, mistress of her own dominion, at the moment.

The song ended, and Sarah made a soft mewling sound of disappointment.

Feeling bold, he pressed his lips to hers for a moment, a brief second of time. He had to do it – it made the whole thing a hell of a lot more believable. It just felt like skin on skin – no doves flying about their heads, no trumpets singing his joy to the heavens. There was no electric tingle on his spine.

All in all, the time he’d kissed Caleb was a lot more memorable than this.

Pulling back, he flushed. “Sorry, I got… terribly carried away.”

Sarah laughed, flushed, breathless. There was a light in her eyes that concerned him a little, but she looked happy and not about to start screaming rape. “Don’t worry… it was all in good fun. If you hadn’t done it, I might have.”

Chase laughed, flushed.

Talk about a goddamn double standard. If he’d still had a prick and done that… fuck, he’d have been thrown to the ground by a few men already as she’d screamed at him for being so fucking bold, and Caleb would have been cradling her protectively to her chest while telling his buddies to get him out of here. (He just couldn’t see the Golden Boy of Ipswich being so out of control as to actually start whaling on Chase himself, even if he wanted to.)

“So…” Sarah drawled, stepping a little closer to him, looking up at him through her lashes.

Fuck. Chase was trying to get to the boyfriend, not the skank. “We should get back to the table. I think I need a drink after that.”

“Ooh, me too,” she took his hand again, and dragged him back though the crowd. This time, instead of bumping into people, the crowd seemed to part easily for the two of them, and a couple awed looking men actually clapped. A few of their girlfriends glowered at them, furious, though he noticed Kira feverishly asking people who she was as Aaron Abbott stared openly at them.

Sinking to sit at the table, Chase smiled sheepishly at the two boys at the table. “Sorry about that. Got carried away.”

Pogue snorted, looking away from him.

“I’ll say,” Caleb snorted, looking sort of awed. It surprised him a little, the look on Caleb’s face – he would have expected more… jealousy, or something.

Sarah flopped half on Caleb’s lap, curling into him, giggling. “That was fun!”

“Having fun kissing on other girls in front of me?” Caleb laughed, smiling up at her.

“And here I thought it would turn you on,” she giggled, wriggling a little in his lap, and Chase had to bite his tongue to keep from gagging. Disgusting. Maybe if it had been a different girl writhing all over Caleb it might have gone differently, but… well. He’d thought Sarah was an inbecile the moment he met her, and cavorting up like a little whorish tart wasn’t changing his opinion of her for the better in the slightest.

He laughed. “Maybe it _did_.”

Pogue made a scoffing, almost gagging sound, and for the first time since he’d met the blonde pretty-boy, he had to agree with him on something.

 

\---

 

Frowning, Chase considered himself in the mirror, twisting and turning a little so that he could attempt to see himself from every angle. The Spenser’s girls and boys uniforms weren’t that different – the same oxfords, same sweater vests, same jackets, same damn ties. But the knee highs and the skirts were a little… weird.

He wiggled a little in the skirt, frowning. Thank god it wasn’t too short, but he just knew that he was going to screw up and not cross his legs properly, or something, and he’d end up flashing the class. Great.

His ass didn’t look half bad in the skirt, though, so he supposed he could live with that.

Scooping up his bag, he tossed it over his shoulder, then stepped out of the house, black oxford shoes clicking a little on the steps as he headed down. Hiking up his bag, he frowned, checking up and down the street, then gave up pretending to be normal, and let himself almost dissolve into a puff of black smoke, reappearing in a second floor hallway at the school that he knew there were no classes in this time of the morning.

Taking a deep, steadying breathe, he headed down the hall again, marching towards his first class.

That is, Caleb’s first class.

Chase was officially dead – there was a death certificate and all, he’d checked. For some slightly creepy reason, even his school file here contained a copy of it – along with his birth certificate and his adoption records. What kind of school needed that kind of paperwork, anyway? Shouldn’t that stuff be protected by _privacy laws_ , or something like that? But being officially dead meant that he was obviously withdrawn from all of his classes. And honestly, he didn’t really want to go to all the effort of creating a _real_ false identity for himself, so he’d shoved a fake student file with fake photoshopped documents into the file cabinets – because lord knows that Caleb was likely to check his student file _again_ – and magic’d his way into a few people’s minds. Just enough to make him a legitimate “student”, though he wasn’t going to be graded, and frankly, he wasn’t going to do any work. He’d faked school well enough last time that no one had noticed, he could do it again.

But this way, he would have every single class with Caleb, just so that he could get a little closer to him. After all, if he was going to make this work, he had to make the idiot pay attention to him.

Slipping into the first period English class – a class he had, in fact, shared with Caleb before, he considered the room. Mostly empty, but a few eager beavers were here, ready for class to begin. He had never been accused of being excited for class, but he could work on that for the sake of this mission.

Sitting in a seat beside where he remembered Caleb sitting before, Chase’s intuition paid off only minutes later.

“Hey, Cherry,” Caleb Danvers grinned at him, hopping up the steps towards the row he was sitting in, thumb hooked in the strap of his messenger bag as he slid past him, and sat in the row. “How’re you doing?”

He smiled, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands, watching Caleb. “Good… how are you?”

“Good,” he nodded, shedding his bag and tugging out his water bottle, leaning back in his seat as he sipped at it. “You made it home all right?”

Chase nodded, watching him.

Caleb blinked at him for a moment, then offered the water bottle. “Want some? You’re kinda staring at me like you want to just grab it.”

He flushed slightly, shaking himself. He seemed to be blushing at the slightest provocation lately – maybe he shouldn’t have altered his hormones so that he was full on _female_ after all. “Ah… yeah, sure, thanks.”

Laughing, he handed the water bottle over, smiling. “So you’re in my English class. We got any other classes the same?”

“I dunno,” he played innocent, sipping at the water. The lip of the bottle tasted of cherry lip balm and apples, which seemed strangely familiar for a moment until he remembered where exactly he’d tasted that exact combination before. “I have bio next, then AP math and Latin after lunch.”

The golden boy laughed. “We have the exact same schedule!”

“Really?” Chase smiled, predatorily. Having practiced facial expressions in the mirror last night – something he _should_ have thought of doing before going out to Nicky’s earlier, but that wasn’t the point, so it worked – he had discovered that this new female face didn’t do evil quite the same way that his old one had. Before, when he had grinned like this, he looked a little like a shark who had just detected the blood in the water. Now, he looked a little like he was about to slide into Caleb’s lap and start trying to work on creating hickies on his throat. “Must be destiny.”

Caleb flushed bright red, and he considered that success. “Right, maybe a kind of…”

“Don’t you believe in destiny, Caleb?” Chase purred, leaning a little closer to him, eyes half lidded. This female body, it had so much more power than he’d had before, as a man. “Don’t you believe that it is possible for two souls to be linked somehow, before they even meet? Maybe lovers are destined to be, or mates, or mortal enemies, or dearest friends, or even business partners. I think people can meet and just know. See the signs, don’t you think so?”

He looked surprised by this statement, and fumbled a little. “Well… I don’t know…”

“I didn’t say we were destined to be lovers, Caleb,” he smiled, patting his arm, though of course that wasn’t what was running through his head at all. Lover he’d be, if he needed to be. He would get his revenge, no matter what he had to do to get it. “I just said destined for something.”

The other laughed, though he was still flushed.

“Aww…” he cooed, feeling like a ridiculous idiot, but willing to suffer a little indignity to further this cause. Reaching up, he patted one of Caleb’s burning red cheeks. “Your face is on fire.”

Caleb snorted, and pulled back a little, clearly embarrassed by either the attention or the intentions behind it. Either way, he was getting under the golden boy’s skin, and that was always a step in the right direction. But he didn’t pull back too far, and he was still smiling.

“We should do something today,” Chase said, abruptly, almost surprising himself. He hadn’t really planned on trying to make a move so fast, but it felt natural, and who was he to argue instinct?

“Like what?”

“Well,” he smirked, “You owe me a tour of the school.”

Caleb snorted. “I do, do I? How do you figure that?”

“Provost said that you were the one to ask about the school,” he reminded him, and although it wasn’t really exactly a lie, the provost had never uttered those words to _Cherry_ , but to Chase over a month ago. “And you said he was right about that, so… you owe me a tour, way I figure it.”

He laughed, but nodded, smiling. “Sure. I’ll show you around. Show you what to avoid in this place.”

“Way I hear it, what to avoid is Aaron Abbott and his gang.” Chase said innocently.

A momentary flash of anger crossed the other’s face, and for a moment, Chase entertained himself by thinking that the anger was directed at the idea of Chase hanging out with Aaron and Kira and Bordy, and not at the infamous trio themselves. “You heard right.”

“See? You’re just a font of knowledge,” he smirked. “I need to pick your brain.”

 

\---

  


Once, Chase had stood on the roof of Spencer’s Academy and watched his target below him like a hawk might watch a rabbit, or a mountain lion might choose a high vantage point to watch the sheep grazing senselessly and innocent in the pasture below. That time, he had stood there with the wind barely rustling over gelled hair, crackling in his coat, watching before throwing himself over the edge to let the magic and the wind catch and pull at him like unseen hands to lower him to the ground to seek out and destroy his targets.

This time, long hair drifted lazily around his face in the breeze, individual strands becoming caught in the sticky sweet slick of lip gloss he wore, taunting him before slipping on again. His skirt and his jacket rustled in the breeze, and standing beside him _was_ his target, this time.

Caleb was resting his hand on the carved lintel that ran around the edge of the roof, like the lord of the castle looking out over his domain.

Even while considering how easy it would be just to push the golden boy over the edge of the ledge to the parking lot below, Chase had to admit that he cut an impressive figure. Almost intimidating. But ever so intriguing, at the same time.

“Beautiful, huh?”

Chase jumped, startled, and forced himself to meet the other’s eyes. Caleb was smiling, dark eyes crinkling around the edges as he grinned, all perfect white straight teeth and genuine amusement. Just when Chase was about to remark that arrogance didn’t suit him, he clarified: “The view. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Just the last few bright colours of fall holding onto the trees, the tiniest covering of snow… it’s like some giant baker shook powdered sugar over Ipswich. It’s beautiful.”

Looking out over the concrete and past the cars to the trees, he had to admit that it wasn’t a bad view. If you were into that. “Not bad, I guess.”

“Oh, and I guess the views of New York were so much better?” Caleb laughed.

Chase stiffened for a moment, then remembered the cover story, and looked over at him out of the corner of his eye. “And what makes you think I’m from New York?”

He flushed again, and Chase smirked. This face _did_ hold power.

“Well?” Chase prompted again, poking Caleb in the side, forcing himself not to poke harder than a girl might playfully poke a friend. He wasn’t going to screw this up just because he wanted to jab the other in the gullet. “New York, Caleb?”

“I mighta asked around a little,” he shrugged, one shouldered.

“Could’ve just asked me,” he laughed, spinning from facing the view – which wasn’t _that_ great, Mr. Hyperbole – to face the boy. “For all you know, this asking around you’re doing is getting you the wrong information. Maybe I planted fake information around the school so I could track down whoever was gossiping about me and string them up by their thumbs.”

Caleb barked with laughter. “Creepy, if you did.”

“Oooh… find me creepy, do you?” he took a step forward, slinking almost, like a stalking jungle cat. “Or _intriguing_?”

“Not really into torturing maniacs, actually,” he said lightly, though there was a hint of darkness to the statement, and Chase smirked a little. He was talking about Fall Fest, the barn. Maybe even the bathroom. Was it sick to be proud of those things? No, of course not. He’d been an expert at that. Different day and age, he’d have gotten a fine job in the Inquisition off the back of those nights.

“Oh yeah?” Chase took a step closer, looking up at Caleb and wishing he didn’t have to do that. He’d thought that lengthening his legs would take care of this – he hadn’t felt short next to Caleb before. Maybe it was just the fact that the rest of his frame was so slight. It made him feel smaller. “What _are_ you into?”

Caleb’s breath caught, and he took a step closer.

_Already? I’m better than I thought…_

The bell rang in the distance, and Caleb swore, some archaic, antiquated word for irritation that Chase never would have recognized except for the easily recognizable intent and feeling behind the word itself. “Well, into not being late for class, for one, but we’ve apparently already missed our chance on that one.”

“Darn,” Chase laughed softly, and buttoned up his jacket so that it didn’t flap in the cool breeze anymore. “Just when it looked like rain, too.”

Danver’s eyes flicked skyward, and he asked, lightly. “You like rain?”

Fighting the desire to roll his eyes at the elemental water witch’s transparency, he said, just as lightly, just as innocently, “The only thing I like better than a roaring fire in the fireplace is a good old fashioned rain storm that I can stand out in and get soaked to the bone. _Then_ come back to my roaring fire to warm up.”

Caleb laughed, and he set one of his massive hands on Chase’s shoulder, as if to guide him into the building. “Sarah hates the rain.”

“Her loss,” he smirked. “Do you like it?”

“Rain… rain is probably my favourite thing in the world,” Caleb murmured, not seeming to realize how incredibly dreamy he sounded as he said it, hand curling on Chase’s back.

“One of these days,” he said, still managing to sound innocent. “We should go spend some time in the rain together. I bet you’d be a great dancer if you danced in the rain. Out there, with the heavy droplets splashing, a bit like drumbeats…”

Caleb laughed, smiling at him. “Heartbeats.”

“Heartbeats, sure,” he nodded, smirking. What a damn romantic. “If your heart beats about a million miles a minute and all over the pavement.”

 

\---

  


“No Pogue tonight?”

Caleb glanced at Sarah, and smiled slightly at her as he slid into one of the seats at his usual table. “No… he said something about a headache.”

Chase sat in the chair beside his, laughing softly. “And here I thought only girls did that when we weren’t feeling like lying back and thinking of England.”

The other girl at the table laughed, settling on Caleb’s other side. “Nice one, Cherry!”

“Mmm, I thought so,” he smirked, stretching.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” Caleb rolled his eyes, snagging a fry from the basket he’d picked up from Nicky earlier, pointing at each of them with it before biting it in half. “No ganging up on me, you hear?”

“Not even in the bedroom?” Sarah asked in what was probably supposed to be a seductive drawl, and Caleb choked on the fry.

Chase had to clear his throat a few times to keep himself from gagging.

“Well, I thought it was funny,” the girl pouted, twirling a lock of hair around her index finger. “So, Cherry… Caleb’s been showing you around the school?”

He considered that, glancing at Caleb. “Pretty much.”

“Pretty much everything important, yeah… though I suppose I should have showed you a few more of the classrooms than just the ones we have class in,” he laughed, and offered the basket to both of his female companions. “Fries, anyone?”

“Oh, not me,” Sarah waved off the offer. “I’m on a diet.”

Caleb blinked. “Again?”

“More fries for me, then,” Chase smirked, snagging a few. It was petty, sure, but pretty much anything where he got to rub dirt in Sarah’s face was great. “I’m really lucky, I guess… I just have a fast metabolism.”

She curled her nose slightly. “Well… that could change, you know, as you get older.”

“Oh, I doubt it. It’s kind of a… legacy thing.” He smirked.

“Mmm, I got something like that,” Caleb nodded, then jumped slightly when Sarah smacked his shoulder. “Ow! I meant _alcoholism_!”

Chase laughed.

Sarah flushed, and pointed at him. “Still not funny to joke about.”

“Who was joking?” he grumbled a little, grabbing another few fries. “It’s just a family legacy thing. And not as nice as a fast metabolism.”

Rolling his eyes, Chase shifted in his chair, crossing his legs, frowning. His stomach had been twinging and complaining all day, as though every muscle in his gut had decided to simultaneously crunch in on themselves, squeezing all of his organs down into the bottom of his torso and squeeze them until he couldn’t take it anymore. It was getting _worse_ instead of better, which was why it didn’t make sense that his stomach seemed to be craving food. A _lot_ of food. Sipping at his cup of water, he rubbed at his stomach, frustrated.

“Cherry?” Sarah said, again, and he looked up sharply.

“Huh?”

“I called your name like six times,” she laughed softly, but there was genuine concern in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I – yes, of course.” He said quickly. Weakness was unacceptable. Even if he _was_ a girl.

“You sure?” Caleb asked, frowning a little. He reached forward, touching her forehead with his fingertips. “You don’t feel hot.”

“You can’t tell someone’s temperature through your fingertips,” Chase muttered, closing his eyes.

He smirked, and shifted his hand so that his palm was curled across his forehead. Chase didn’t feel any hotter than he felt usually, but Caleb’s hand seemed to be burning against his skin. “No,” Caleb said, “You still don’t feel hot. You’re probably not sick.”

“Oooh!” Sarah hissed, eyes wide, and lowered her voice. “…is it cramps?”

Chase opened his eyes again, blinking at her. “Ah… it… could be?”

“Oh no… lame!” the blonde leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “Damn… and right before we were going to have a night on the dance floor, too! You got supplies?”

“Ah… not… on me.” He said, having no fucking idea what she was talking about.

“I do, c’mon,” she stood, and reached across the table to grab his hand, tugging him up. “Oooh, and you wore a white dress today… god, I hope we can catch it in time. We’re gonna run to the little girl’s room, okay, Caleb?”

He looked a little pained. “Sure.”

“Wait – “ he tried, but a moment later, he was being swept along into the girl’s bathroom.

Which was _certainly_ cleaner than the men’s bathroom in this joint… Chase looked around, frowning a little. It was better lit, too, and aside from the lack of urinals and the added stalls – which he _did_ know enough to have expected – the major difference was the fact that it was so much _louder_ than the men’s washroom. There, men didn’t meet each other’s eyes, and tried to get their business done and get out of there as quickly as possible. _Here_ , girls chattered and leaned over the sinks as they worked on touching up makeup that looked perfectly fine to him, giggling and talking and generally using the bathroom as some kind of gender segregated continuation of the bar itself.

“Here.” Sarah slapped a little paper package into his hand, and Chase blinked at it like it was an alien device. “There you are.”

“Ah… Sarah… I don’t…”

“ _Oh_.” She blinked. “You don’t use tampons, do you?”

His heart sunk straight to his feet, a sort of sick realization sweeping through his limbs. Oh god. _Tampon_. He was having his period. Oh good lord. He _really_ should have reconsidered this full and complete transformation into a woman thing.

“Ah… no.”

“Mmm,” Sarah frowned, digging in her purse, leaving him to feel completely idiotic standing there, holding the stupid crinkly little package like a moron. “Let’s see if I have any pa – aah ha!”

Holding her hand aloft with a grin, she snatched the little wrapped package out of his hand and swapped it for a little plastic square, squishy and kind of floppy and alarmingly bright yellow. “There we go, much better. Now you get in that stall and take care of that… you’re new around here. Believe me, you don’t want to make that kind of impression.”

Blinking at the yellow thing, he asked, slowly, “Why are you helping me with this?”

“Because I’m your friend, dork.” She snorted, and pushed him towards one of the stalls. “Get in there before you make a mess of your dress!”

The moment that chase realized that Sarah Wenhem was right for the second time in her miserable life – the first being the pitifully easy realization that Caleb Danvers was, in fact, a witch – and that he was in fact hemorrhaging from between his legs was a moment that Chase would like to have stricken forever from his memory. He couldn’t imagine how women could possibly deal with this once a month – this one moment of his body apparently deciding that there was just too much blood in it so wouldn’t it be a lovely idea to dump a massive amount of it unceremoniously from his crotch be a lovely idea? was scarring enough, thank you very much. How did women not revolt as one and tear out their uterus’? Miracle of being a woman his _ass_.

But he did manage to recall enough of grade nine health class to get the thing affixed to his underwear, then head back out to scrub his hands in one of the sinks like he was a surgeon prepping for an open heart bypass.

“Well?” Sarah asked, leaning on the sinks.

He quelled the temptation to throttle her. “Yeah. I hate this.”

“Miracle of being a woman, I guess,” she quipped, laughing, tilting her head to the side like a canary that had been dipped in bleach to attain that airheaded colour.

He knew there was a reason he hated her.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month ago, Caleb killed Chase. He's come back from the dead to destroy Caleb completely - by making him fall in love with him. The only problem is, Chase didn't exactly expect to like being in love.

**Title:** Eyes On Fire  
 **Author:** [](http://sparrowshellcat.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sparrowshellcat.livejournal.com/)**sparrowshellcat**   
**Fandom:** The Covenant  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Chase Collins/Caleb Danvers  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Words:** 21,025  
 **Warnings:** MC with deep-seated abandonment and gender issues. Self-inflicted verbal abuse.  
  
 **Summary:** A month ago, Caleb killed Chase. He's come back from the dead to destroy Caleb completely - by making him fall in love with him. The only problem is, Chase didn't exactly expect to like being in love.  
  
 

 

\---

  


“Hey, Cherry.”

Chase looked up, startled, from his test paper. He hadn’t actually be working on the damn thing – he was planning on just spelling the teacher into believing he’d handed in a perfect paper – but he had to _look_ like he was actually doing something productive, so he’d been writing a list of all the idiotic things that drove him insane about the Ipswich Covenant. Pointless and a little petty, but damn if it wasn’t fun.

But now Caleb was sort of grinning at him, leaning closer to him as Pogue gave them both death glares. Oh, if only looks could kill, sweetpea.

“Caleb?” he hissed back, smirking a little. What was the golden boy doing breaking rules, now?

“Want to go to Nicky’s tonight?”

He stifled a laugh behind his hand, rolling his eyes. “This couldn’t wait til lunch?”

“I’m done, and I’m bored. You coming, or not?”

“I thought you had a date?” he pointed out. He’d been planning on hitting the library as a result of said plans, actually. Get a little research in while the Danvers deluded himself into thinking he’d found love with the blonde bimbo. “With _Sarah_?”

“She got a call today from her parents, she’s headed home to see them for the weekend. Leaving right after school. C’mon, you coming tonight, or not?”

“No talking!” the professor barked, and Caleb shot back into his seat like the perfect student again, grin gone instantly as he scribbled on the margin of his test paper, as though he was clarifying a point. Chase glanced at the professor, but though he met his eyes, the man’s eyes didn’t linger. Why would they be the one’s talking, after all? They were both good students.

Caleb waited until the professor had returned to his desk to sit and flip his book open again before hissing, “Well? C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.”

“Caleb…” Pogue murmured, eyes not lifting from his test paper this time. He still looked pissed.

“Cherry?” the boy between them prompted, grinning a little.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed softly. “I’ll go to Nicky’s with you tonight.”

“Success,” Caleb hissed, pleased, and leaned back, pretending to work on his test paper again, but he was grinning as he did.

Chase snorted, and jotted another note to the list: _Pompous presumptuous asses_.

 

\---

  


When Caleb had said ‘hanging out at Nicky’s’, Chase hadn’t pictured being handed a pool cue and being told to break.

“…are you sure?”

This was a bad idea. This was a _very_ bad idea. Chase had an issue when it came to competitions – he couldn’t tolerate losing. He could only remember too well the stupid foosball game from back when he was still a man. It had meant absolutely nothing, but he’d been so afraid of losing he’d gotten way too into it, and actually cheated. (It wasn’t his fault that Reid and Tyler’s useless use of power over at the other side of the bar had masked his own magic.)

And if he got that competitive again… well, the game could be up.

“Yeah!” Caleb was grinning. “I want to play, and you’re the one I’m here with tonight, so… ladies first.”

He snorted. “I ain’t much of a lady, Caleb.”

“I beg to differ,” he smiled. “So. Gonna break?”

Rolling his eyes, Chase bent over the table, frowning as he lined up with the cue, tongue stuck just the littlest bit out of his mouth as he considered the shot. He wasn’t going to use on this one. He _could_ easily, but this was supposed to be about making Caleb trust him, not about winning.

Snapping the cue out towards the white ball, he yelped as it went far wider than he’d planned. Apparently altering his body had altered his _shot_ while he was at it.

Caleb laughed, his whole face lighting up. “Oh, _nice_!”

“I’d like to see _you_ do any better,” he grumbled, straightening up as he frowned at the table. At least he hadn’t scratched, but… it was a terrible shot.

“Sure,” he laughed again, smirking at him, then bent over the table himself to shoot. And sure enough, land one of the striped balls neatly in the corner pocket before he straightened up. “Guess I’m stripes.”

“Hn. Guess you are.” Chase bit his tongue, trying to behave.

Eight shots later, and he was doing worse than he had been doing before, if that was even possible. Frustrated, Chase was nearly ready to throw his pool cue across the room and hope it took out one of the idiots from the school when Caleb stepped in behind him. His first instinct was to spin and grab him before throwing him to the ground, but he fought that down. Caleb wasn’t _attacking_ him, though if he was smart, he would have been.

“Caleb?”

“Here. Let me help.” The Danvers boy stepped in close behind him, and Chase held his breath. _What is he_ \- ? Looping his arms around him, Caleb took Chase’s forearms in his hands and bent him over with his body as he molded them into a shooting pose. “Comfortable?”

“Ah…” he hesitated, trying to think of how to answer that. Caleb was pressed against his back, one of his legs was planted between his on the floor, and he could feel the other man’s breath in his ear. If he’d still been a man, he would have had a problem pressed between himself and the pool table right now, and for the first time, he was well and truly grateful that he was trapped in the flesh of a soft, _penis-less_ woman. “Well, nothing is bent in funny and painful angles, if that’s what you mean.”

He chuckled, hot breath passing over Chase’s neck, and he shivered despite himself. “Good. Now remember to feel the whole path of the cue, not just the end. Picture it as a line arching down to the ball, then continue the line in your mind, to see where the ball will go. Got that?”

Chase nodded, silently, biting his tongue.

“Give it a shot. Don’t worry, I’m just here to help out. Pretend I’m not here.”

“Impossible,” Chase murmured, and shivered again when he laughed and he realized that he could feel the rumble of Caleb’s laughter through his back. Regardless, he _did_ take the shot, and while it was certainly not perfect, it sure as hell wasn’t as wide as the other shots had been. It wasn’t even half bad, all things considered.

“Much better,” Caleb grinned. “Wanna give it another go?”

“But it’s your turn,” he said, surprised with how very small and breathy his voice seemed to sound.

“And you’re the one who needs to practice,” Caleb smiled, and Chase realized with a start that he could feel the smile on his ear. What exactly was Caleb _doing_? And why, exactly, wasn’t Chase pushing his mortal enemy away? Oh right, because he had no friends to keep close, but he could still keep his enemies closer. “Take your best shot, Cherry.”

Chase swallowed. “You sure you want me to do that?”

There was a moment’s pause, then the lips on the shell of his ear moved again. “Yeah, I think I do.”

 

\---

  


“You fucking _whore_!”

A heavy, leaded bottle of perfume slammed against the massive mirror, shattering it, though it stayed mostly in the frame. Splinters cracked out across the once-smooth surface, breaking Chase’s fucking female face into a million tiny pieces that all looked back at him the same – red, swollen puffy eyes, tear stained face, unspeakable rage making him shake.

“Fucking little _slut_!” he roared again, punching the glass, breaking it further, slashing open his girly knuckles, blood smearing across the pieces of glass, splashing in little droplets across the sink.

“You just give it up to anyone that flirts with you, is that it?!” he screamed, slamming his palms over and over again against the glass, bloody handprints smearing across it. “Do you have no fucking _integrity_?! Even when you were a man you weren’t this much of a whore! He’s just using you! You were supposed to be using him!”

Reeling away from the mirror, Chase shuddered, hands dripping blood on the floor in neat little circle droplets.

He was naked, mostly because he had just showered when he’d broken down, but partially because he was trying to figure out what about this body made him so weak that he’d just fall victim to his baser instincts, and forget all about the plan to lean back into his mortal enemy and practically beg him for more. “You should have just dropped to your knees!” Chase screamed at himself, furious and frustrated. “You were practically gagging for it!”

Female hormones could have been blamed for the chaos that was running havoc on his body, but the simple fact was that Chase hadn’t been prepared for this. He hadn’t really thought this through. If he was going to make Caleb into his victim by playing the black widow, that meant he was going to have to play along. He was going to have to be part of the equation, otherwise this would just never work. The fact that he was now female completely just meant that he was going to have more things to deal with at the same time.

“I hate you,” he hissed to his reflection in the chunk of mirror that lay on the floor in front of him. “You’re weak.”

Tears were sliding down his neck, and he wiped at his snotty nose, snuffling.

“I don’t want to do this,” he whispered, voice cracking, face crumpling a little as he slumped to the counter and just cried instead of raged. “I don’t want to… I don’t want to be the whore, I don’t – I just wanted revenge, I didn’t want it to be like this…”

Wiping at his face, he muttered, “You’re weak, bitch. You have to be strong.”

“But I don’t want…”

“You have to.”

“I never asked for this.”

“It was your idea!”

He spun to face the mirror again, and his eyes flared orange as the mirror’s little fragments flew back into the frame, sealing themselves back together again, making it whole and smooth and beautiful again as though nothing had ever happened to it.

“Now.” Chase glared at himself in the repaired mirror, fingers curled around the edge of the sink. “Stop being a pussy about this, and do whatever you have to do to get your revenge. And if that means fucking dropping to your knees or flirting with the asshole or whatever it means, you _are going to do it_ , do you hear me? There is no choice anymore, we’ve gone too far to back out of this. You got it?!”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

  
\--- 

Despite ordering himself to get over himself and get back in the game, Chase hung back a little on Monday when classes started again, not entering the room yet. He just wasn’t really sure he could actually face Caleb, not after Friday night at the bar…

“Just gonna stand here all day?” a familiar voice snapped, and he turned, quickly, surprised.

“ _Pogue_?”

“Well?” he grumbled, crossing his arm over his chest, watching him. The blond still looked suspicious, like he knew something that he knew he shouldn’t, but he was _talking_ to him. What was going on?

“I mean, no, but…”

“Caleb’s already in there.” He sighed. “I’m not going to lie to you. I don’t really like you.”

Chase flushed, but he could hardly blame him. Even if he didn’t know who Chase _really_ was, he probably could sense that something was off. “Fine.”

“Yeah. But you make Caleb happier than Sarah does,” he spit out her name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “And at least you have a brain. So if you’re going to keep hanging out with Caleb, fine. Just don’t expect me to be all sunshine and lollipops about it, yeah?”

He blinked at him. _Last_ time he’d tried to make friends with Caleb, Pogue had been a bitch about it the entire time. “Uh… sure?”

“Good.” He brushed past him, muttering as he went past, “Caleb’s waiting for you.”

Chase blinked after him, startled. This development had completely broadsided him. He’d just sort of assumed that Pogue would never be able to accept another strange friend, and that was it. But here he was, practically giving him his reluctant stamp of approval.

Slowly, a grin crossed his face, and he headed into the classroom, feeling a hell of a lot better about this whole damn thing.

 

\---

  


“You know I’ve never been to the ocean?”

“How have you _lived_?” Caleb laughed, kicking at the waves as they rolled towards his feet and lapped at the toes of his trainers. “Seriously, the ocean is probably one of my favourite things. I could spend hours here, and have no problem.”

“It’s a little cold for swimming though,” Chase snorted, darting back from a wave that slid a little closer to his feet than the others had. “There’s snow on the beach.”

“That means nothing.” He laughed, tugging off his pea coat. “Why, are you cold?”

“A little,” he grumbled, flushed. He was a _fire_ elemental witch, he was used to being as hot as he could manage to be, sometimes literally on fire. Hell, if he could find a way, he’d probably pull a Johnny Storm and run around actually on fire. It would be nice. The wind out here was bitterly cold, and seemed to sweep right through the only jacket he owned like he wasn’t even wearing it.

“Here,” Caleb lay his jacket on his shoulders, heavy and startlingly warm, and Chase looked up, sharply. “This should help. Feel better?”

“A – a little… yeah. Thanks.” Chase frowned, tugging the heavy pea coat a little tighter around himself like a cape, considering this. He knew how to respond to anger, to hate, to fury, to tears. To affection and caring and compassion, he had no idea at all how to deal with it. He hadn’t been treated like this ever as far as he could remember. His birth mother, who he could barely recall, had abandoned him completely. His adoptive parents had never really loved him despite his every attempt to please them. He just wasn’t the child they’d thought he would be. His own father had left him once he’d found him, passed on his twisted legacy and hate, then left. _That_ was love. Right?

“You’re adorable,” Caleb laughed, and pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning back to the ocean. “I’m gonna go for a swim.”

“It’s way too cold for a swim,” Chase said automatically, fingers drifting up to his hairline. He pretended to be fixing his hair, which was whipping around his face in the bitter ocean wind, but he was really touching the spot where Caleb had kissed, trying to figure out what that meant.

“Not really… haven’t you ever heard of the Polar Bear dips? It’s way too cold to swim _then_ , but they still do it.” The other laughed, and tugged his shirt off, tossing it towards him. “Catch!”

He did, instinctively.

“Thanks,” Caleb grinned, kicking off his shoes.

“You’re not going to _skinny_ _dip_ are you?” he demanded, voice squeaking slightly.

Caleb wiggled his brows at him, but didn’t answer – not that he had to, because a moment later he was wading into the water in his jeans. Clutching the t-shirt to his chest without even realizing he was doing it, Chase watched as Caleb went deeper and deeper into the waves, then swept his arms up in a perfect butterfly sweep and dove under the water. He shivered at the mere thought of the coldness of that water, but watched, intrigued.

Despite the cold, the water witch swam for a good ten minutes, then emerged finally, throwing his head back, water droplets arching through the air like cold crystals in the grey sky. “That was fun!”

Chase snorted. “And did you notice that we don’t have any towels for you?”

“That’s okay… you’re nice and dry.” Caleb loped back up the beach, cold water still dripping off of him as he threw his arms out, heading towards him.

“Oh no you don’t!” he yelped, backing up. “M’not you’re towel!”

He laughed, speeding up. “C’mere, gimme a hug!”

“No way!” he threw Caleb’s t-shirt at him, but he didn’t slow up, not even when he pitched the jacket next, still backing up as fast as he could. Chase’s heel caught on a piece of driftwood, and he yelped as he started going down, only to be caught by a pair of _very_ wet arms, and tossed over a very wet shoulder. “Ack! Caleb, you son of a bitch, put me down!”

Caleb was roaring with laughter as he swung them both around, making Chase dizzy. “Nope, I got my victim right here… I’m the mighty pillaging Viking, carrying off the womenfolk of the town!”

“Ass!” he laughed despite himself, thumping his fists on the other’s bare and soaking wet back. “Put me down!”

“Put you down in the ocean, you say? Sure thing!” laughing, the other headed towards the water again, ignoring Chase’s squeals of ‘ _Put me down put me down put me down not in the water you bastard on the ground Caleb Danvers_!’ to wade into the waves, still holding him in place over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“ _Caleb_!” he yowled, unimpressed. He was instants away from using to get away from him, master plan be damned.

The golden boy laughed, and waded back out of the water before swinging Chase down off his shoulder and setting him firmly on the sand itself, though he still held onto his upper arms. “Better?”

“ _Yes_ , fuck…” he gasped, breathless.

Caleb touched his cheek lightly, smiling at him. “You’re not really _that_ mad at me, are you?”

“Don’t do that to me again,” he grumped, trying to look menacing, but pretty sure this stupid pretty face just made him look pouting instead.

“Promise,” Caleb said, solemnly, then bent closer, and kissed him.

Eyes wide, startled, Chase froze for a moment, then slowly relaxed. His plan was working. Better than expected. A _lot_ better than expected, actually, he decided, as he slid his own hand up Caleb’s bare arm to hold onto the back of his bicep, leaning against him a little. It wasn’t every day he got to kiss men that were _exactly_ his type, after all.

“Cherry…” Caleb murmured, against his lips.

It actually took Chase a moment to remember that Caleb was in fact talking to him. “Mmm? Yes?”

“You’re getting soaked.”

“Huh?” he blinked, then yelped, bolting back from Caleb. Sure enough, pressing against a soaking wet hulk of man meant that he was going to be soaking wet too. “Dammit, now my blouse is going all see-through!”

Caleb snorted, and patted his shoulder. “Want my coat back?”

Chase glowered at him, and he just roared with laughter.

“Take that as a yes,” he grinned, scooping it up, and holding it up for the other to slide his arms into the sleeves. “Just hold onto it for a bit, okay, until you dry off and get home. I’ll just get it back from you at school next week.”

“Sure,” Chase flushed, buttoning the jacket up, burrowing deeper into the jacket, inhaling. It even _smelled_ like him.

Caleb smiled, and reached up to brush some of his unruly hair out of his face. “Maybe next time we’ll hang out somewhere other than the beach, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he nodded.

 

\---

  


Chase often didn’t feel like pretending anymore when he wasn’t hanging around Caleb. Why should he? It wasn’t like he had to get anyone else to trust him.

So he was lying on the bleachers in the empty gym during lunch, reading. Caleb was all wrapped up in Sarah this lunch anyway – although every time Chase saw her, he felt a little more smug. After all, even though the blonde was his girlfriend, it was _him_ that Caleb had been kissing at the beach, so there. Of course, it wasn’t because he was getting _kissed_ that he was feeling smug, oh no. Chase was just smug because, you know… he’d managed to make the boy trust him. Plan and all.

Lying on his stomach, flipping the pages, he frowned at the yellowed pages. This Witch’s Hammer book was ridiculous. Did the authors really think that iron nails were the only thing that could kill witches?

Distracted, he didn’t notice when someone marched up beside him, and his book was suddenly slapped away from him, skittering across the slick as waxed glass gym floor. He looked up sharply, surprised to see Sarah Wenhem herself, towering over him, eyes red and wet, teeth bared in an almost animalistic snarl. “…Sarah?”

“You little cunt, you stole him from me!” she roared, and leapt at him.

Chase rolled out of her way, then started backing up the bleachers seats like stairs, frowning. He had a pretty good idea of what had just happened, but if she kept the girl distracted, that gave him more time to work with. “What are you talking about, Sarah?”

“Caleb just _dumped_ me!” she roared, storming up the bleachers after him. “Because he’s in love with _you_!”

“Really?” he arched a brow, impressed. He hadn’t thought he’d gotten Caleb to the _love_ point just yet. He must be doing better than he thought he was.

“Yes, you little bitch, now I’m going to kill you!”

Chase snorted. “Fat chance. Useless little bitch.”

Sarah roared, and leapt at him again.

Chase was faced with two options. The first was just getting out of there, avoiding the fight entirely and therefore letting himself fly under the radar still. The second was to give Sarah exactly what she wanted (and exactly what he wanted to give her, in all honesty) which was a complete throw down fight, winner takes all. But then he’d use, and frankly, Sarah wouldn’t come out of this gym alive.

He wasn’t sure whether or not he had a problem with that.

No wait, of course he knew.

He _really_ liked the idea of gutting the blonde bimbo bitch where she stood. Fitting punishment.

But he didn’t – Chase instead swept out his legs in a bit of a sweep, knocking Sarah’s legs out from under her. She toppled backwards, and he watched with almost bored disinterest as she tumbled back down the bleachers, crying out as he head cracked finally on the wooden floor.

Standing, he walked down the bleachers himself, then poked her with his toe. “Are you dead?”

Sarah groaned, pitifully, and tried to push herself up onto her hands and knees, though she was unsteady.

“Shame,” he sighed, and rounded her to pick up his book from where she’d knocked it across the floor. “I’d just finish this, but… frustratingly, you should probably stay alive to avoid complications. Consider yourself lucky, bitch.” He paused, then crouched beside her in a single smooth motion, cupping her chin to look her dead in the glazed eyes. “Caleb is mine now. You got that?”

Sarah made a soft keening sound of pain.

“Good enough.” He stood. “Stay away from him.”

Heels clicking on the wooden floor, he walked out of the gym, then flagged down the nearest teacher. “I think someone fell in the gym!”

 

\---

  


“Your _house_? That’s where you decided we should hang out next?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, is there?” Caleb grinned, considering her as slyly as he could manage while driving, which wasn’t very slyly at all.

“Well, _no_ , just…” Chase shook his head, running his hand through his hair. It worried him, sometimes, how quick the idiot witch was to trust. Was he just lying to him, tricking Chase into letting his guard down by pretending to let his own guard down? But then, Caleb _had_ confessed that he was a witch to a girl he’d known less than a week, so maybe he was just a bit of a trustworthy idiot. “I’d like to see your house.”

“Great.” He grinned, and pulled the car into the space to the right of the massive stone steps. “C’mon in. I’d like you to meet my mother.”

Oooh yeah. Caleb had just shot beyond ‘trusting’ to ‘gullible fucking idiot’ on Chase’s mental scale.

 The golden boy took his hand as they climbed out of the car, larger fingers curling around his delicate ones, tugging him close to his side. “Ready?”

“Sure? It’s not like you’re introducing me to the president of the world… it’s your mother,” Chase laughed, smirking up at him. “Or is she secretly the president of the world? Because if she is, I probably should have worn something nicer.”

Caleb laughed, and brushed Chase’s hair back again. He seemed to like doing that. “You have such a great sense of humour.”

“Sure.” He smirked.

Tugging him along behind him, Caleb led him up the stairs and into the house, calling softly, “Mother? Are you home? I have someone I want you to meet.”

There was the sound of movement from a room to the left, and a raspy woman’s voice answered, “In here, baby.”

Chase shuddered. He recognized that note in the voice.

Caleb nodded, and tugged him into the large sitting room. There was a massive fireplace with a fire burning in it, which made him feel more relaxed instantly, and a scattered assortment of dusty stuffed hunting trophies scattered amongst heavy Victorian decorative objects. The furniture was heavy and outdated and in desperate need of a clean, and sitting in the middle of the sea of heavy decoration was a delicate woman, dressed in a silky dressing gown. Her hair was done up in old fashioned waves, and she wore smoky makeup with bright passionate red lips as though she was a film star from the forties. He half expected her to start talking about Casablanca.

Instead, she sat up a little straighter, heavy lidded eyes dark and sultry as she smiled at them. “Caleb, my little boy… who is this fine young lady?”

Caleb smiled at him, and pushed him forward gently by his lower back. “This is Cherry Pope, mother. Cherry, this is my mother, Evelyn Danvers.”

Evelyn stretched out a hand, presumably to shake.

Chase took it, surprised at how dry and soft it was. Evelyn looked delicate, but she felt _brittle_ , breakable. Like the slightest pressure would shatter her into a million pieces, like one of those ancient porcelain figures of dancing ladies. “A pleasure, ma’am.”

“Please… call me Evelyn.” She smiled, softly.

Caleb grinned, clearly pleased. “It’s nice to have you two finally meet.”

_Finally? You’ve only known Cherry for a month_ , he thought, fighting the urge to laugh at the idea. “It is nice.”

“So this is the girl you’re always talking about,” Evelyn smiled again, wider, and Chase blinked as Caleb flushed. “It’s so nice to finally have a face to put to the name. My son is right, Cherry, you truly _are_ a lovely girl.”

“Mother!” Caleb hissed.

Chase smirked. “Well then. I’m glad to hear that.”

“C’mon, Cherry… we were gonna go look at the library, remember? Let’s go take a look.”

Chase dropped Evelyn’s delicate hand at last, and nodded. “Of course we were.”

“You two have fun, now,” Evelyn smiled as she plucked a long, thin cigarette from the package sitting on the little side table beside her, and lit it up expertly. “And behave yourselves, of course.”

Caleb all but fled the room, dragging him along with him.

“She seems nice,” Chase laughed softly, smiling at the back of Caleb’s head. It actually made the golden boy a little easier to understand – he wasn’t under the thumb of a controlling mother as he’d expected so much as he was actually the only thing keeping his mother together. She was just like the porcelain figure he’d compared her to before, but she was one that had been dropped once before, and was now covered in a fine network of spiderweb cracks. The slightest pressure at any point could potentially cause not just a piece to fall off, but the whole statue itself to shatter, falling into glass dust. That meant that Caleb was obsessively overprotective of her, and would never allow her to be exposed to anything that would cause any kind of trauma.

Which meant one simple thing.

Caleb trusted him enough that he was willing to entrust his _mother_ to him.

He smirked. Success already? Victory was sweet.

“This is the library,” Caleb said, flushed as he opened the door to a massive room, leading him in and ignoring his comment about Evelyn.

Chase whistled, looking around. The room was massive – two stories tall, easily, with massive glass windows along one wall and shelves along the other three. There was a massive table in the centre of the room, with books scattered haphazardly across it. “Nice room… I like it.”

“So do I,” Caleb nodded. “I do my homework in here, actually…” he waved vaguely to a laptop sitting in sleep mode on the table. “It’s peaceful.”

Slipping his hand out of Caleb’s, Chase walked into the room, eyes drifting across the table, noting dozens of books on witchcraft not only on the shelves, but pulled out and scattered across the table, clearly used recently. Did this idiot really not know how to keep secrets? There were other papers scattered everywhere, though, and picking one up, he read the title aloud: “Ipswich charity ball… what’s this, Caleb?”

“You don’t know about the ball? Oh, no, of course not, this is your first year here.” He laughed softly, and stepped up behind Chase, looping his arms lazily around his waist. Chase fought down the instinct to run.

“So what is it?” he asked, forcing himself to lean back into Caleb.

“The Ipswich charity ball is an event that’s been going on for at least two hundred years. The old founding families started it. We set up the town hall to be a massive ball room, and then people raise money to get tickets. There’s no actual set price for them – you could give a dollar, and get in. But the idea is to raise as much money as possible, because whatever they raise, the original four families match that amount of money, then all of the money gets donated to local charities.”

Chase found the rage at the mention of ‘the original _four_ families’ but swallowed his anger, and said, “Is it popular?”

“Everyone in town comes,” he smiled. “We make speeches and stuff, but mostly the night is about the dance, the party. It’s a lot of fun, but a lot of work, and it’s just over a month away, now.”

“Hard to believe Christmas is so close,” he smiled, considering Caleb. “So _everyone_ in town comes.”

“Yep. Last year we actually had more people at the party than the population of the town. It was pretty amazing, actually. We raised a lot of money.”

He smirked. “How perfect.”

Yes. How perfect. To destroy Caleb at.

“So… you’ll come?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he smiled, brightly.

“And… will you come as my date?” he suggested, turning Chase in his arms so that he could face him, smiling hopefully.

“Oh Caleb… of course I’ll go as your date.” He smiled. Funny how patronizing could sound so very earnest when a girl said it. “I’d love to.”

He smiled, hopefully, stroking the side of his jaw, his neck. “I was thinking… maybe you’d like to be my date for more than just the ball. Like… maybe you’d be my girlfriend.”

Chase hesitated, then nodded. “Of course. Of course I will, Caleb.”

He sighed in relief, and kissed Chase again, pulling the other closer against him, holding him gently. It was as though Caleb seemed to think that he was somehow breakable, so he always treated him like he was made of glass.

Chase curled his fingers in Caleb’s shirt, and gave in to the kiss, pressing harder into it.

He might as well _enjoy_ himself while he was at it.

 

\---

  


“So. Cherry.”

Chase barely looked up as Reid dropped into the seat on one side of him, and Tyler dropped into the seat on the other. “Hello, boys.”

Reid leaned forward on the desk, considering him. “I heard our little Caleb is arse over tits for you.”

“Eloquent.” He looked up, arching a brow at the blond. “And that has what to do with you, now? Or are you your brother’s keeper?”

“Well… the last time our little Caleb fell in love, he nearly got killed, so…” Reid shrugged. “We tend to like to keep an eye out for each other, and if he ain’t really serious about this, maybe we should suggest you leave him the fuck alone.”

Leaning his chin on his hand, Chase told him, calmly, “I’ve met Evelyn. I’m pretty sure it’s serious.”

Tyler blinked. “You met Evelyn?”

He nodded, glancing at the youngest member of the covenant. “Yep. Had dinner there on Tuesday night.”

Tyler reached around behind him to cuff Reid in the back of the head. “Moron, you made me think that she was totally taking advantage of Cay! You’re just jealous again!”

“Am not!” Reid yelped.

“Well, well, what’s going on here?” Caleb leaned over Reid, hand resting on the desk as he leaned over him sort of ominously. “You guys harassing Cherry?”

“They’re just being dorks,” he smirked up at him. “Over protective dorks.”

“I was afraid of that. Out.” Caleb glowered at them.

“We have your best interests at heart!” Reid yelped. “We’re just trying to look out for our fearless leader!”

“What, am I dating Batman?” Chase snorted, terribly amused by this whole terrible mess. Tyler and Reid were right, of course, to be suspicious of him. After all, he was planning on destroying Caleb’s life once he had his full and complete trust. (And, by proxy, probably destroy their lives as well. He’d see.) Yet Caleb was always so quick to jump to his defense. Really, it was hilarious.

Caleb laughed, sitting beside him, and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Eventually they’ll be just as overprotective of you.”

He snorted. “Pretty sure they won’t.”

“Trust me,” Caleb smiled at him, dark eyes bright. “You’ll see.”

“Sure thing there, Batman.”

“Oi!” he laughed.

 

\---

  


Sliding into his usual seat at the table Caleb had long ago informed him was ‘the Sons of Ipswich table’, Chase set his tray on the table, considering his food. A mug of peppermint tea and a BLT on brown. Come to think of it, that was a pretty damn girly meal as it was… no wonder no one blinked twice when “Cherry” had shown up. He had a lot of girly habits.

Shrugging, he took a sip of his tea, then jumped when Caleb slid in beside him, nearly spilling it.

“Sorry about that,” Caleb laughed, smiling.

“Better be,” he muttered, flushed, wiping drops of tea off of his tie. Did girls always get spots on their breasts every time that they were clumsy? It was really starting to bother him. He was still pissed he hadn’t even noticed Caleb there… all this “not using” was making him sort of off edge and less prepared than normal. He never would have let the younger witch sneak up on him before.

“I am,” he smiled, and bent a little to kiss Chase’s cheek. “How are you?”

“You just saw me twenty minutes ago in class,” he glanced at him, arching a brow. “I’m doing as fine as I was twenty minutes ago. Fine.”

“Good. So I ran into Sarah in the hall.”

Chase’s hackles went up, instantly. Trying to force his hands to stop trembling by holding tighter to the mug in his hands, he said slowly, “And what did _Sarah_ have to say?”

“I think that accident in the gym has really done a number on her.” He said, not seeming to notice the frustration as he sipped at his bottle of water. “She’s been telling people you beat the crap out of her so that you could steal her boyfriend. No one believes her, of course, but… I think a few of the teachers are actually talking about bringing her to a therapist or something, maybe she actually has a brain injury.”

He snorted, and sipped at his tea again.

“It’s not _funny_ , Cherry…” he sighed, but smiled as he tucked a lock of Chase’s hair behind his ear.

“She’s just bitter cause she can’t have what I’ve got,” he smirked, and leaned on Caleb’s arm. “And cause she could never have any of the other things I have, can never do any of the other things I can do.”

“Oh?” he laughed. “And what can you do?”

Chase grinned wolfishly at him, remembering having Caleb pinned beneath him, knee in his spine, the Golden Boy’s hair fisted in his fingers as he forced him to look at the lovely burning tableau he had created for him with fire and a comatose girlfriend. He imagined that the look on Caleb’s face when Chase crushed his heart beneath his proverbial heel was going to be even better. “Guess you’re just gonna have to wait and see.”

 

\---

  


“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Speak for yourself,” Pogue muttered, arms crossed as he slumped lower in the seat, clearly displeased. “You couldn’t have taken a girlfriend or something?”

“I don’t have any girlfriends, and Caleb asked you to come with me, it wasn’t my idea,” Chase muttered, glowering at his reflection in the mirror. He was wearing some stupid dress, one that sucked his torso in, and pushed his boobs up, and made his waist look teeny tiny before it flared out into some damned crinoline’d mess. He supposed that technically it was very pretty, but he was _not_ a skirts type of man. To make it a little better, some grumpy old woman who couldn’t see a foot beyond her nose was pinning the dress because apparently it didn’t fit well _enough_ , and the last person he wanted to spend loads of time with was sitting there being grumpy. “So relax.”

Pogue sighed heavily, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Chase supposed that if he knew he was sitting there placidly while the man that had attacked both him and his girlfriend was being pinned into a dress before him, he _would_ have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Look, this dance thing will be fine, we’ll all dress in stupidly fancy clothes, then go. Right?”

“Something like that,” Pogue muttered, chin holding up his head as he watched idly. “I hate it. Same thing every year.”

“Well, that’s encouraging – _ow_ , son of a bitch, woman!” he yelped, jumping, as she jabbed a pin straight into his side as though she’d meant to make him bleed. “That _hurt_ , goddamn it… fuck…”

Pogue snorted. “You are the least ladylike woman I know.”

He froze. Was the gig up? Did he know? “…oh?”

“Yeah. And then you go and get all graceful and done up in shit like this,” he waved at the dress, “And I remember why Caleb is all gaga over you again. Just… don’t break my boy’s heart, huh?”

“Do I look like a heartbreaker?” he asked, feigning innocence.

He smiled faintly, the first time he’d seen him _really_ smile since he’d come back as Cherry. “You look like a sweetheart with more sex appeal than she knows what to do with. So yeah, a heartbreaker. But you’re good for Caleb.”

“…you think so?” he frowned, considering the mirror, trying to see this ‘sweetheart’ in his reflection.

“Yeah. I think he’s happier now than he has been in a long time.”

“That’s… good.” Chase sighed, crinkling his nose. He was getting caught in this web, this trap that the covenant boys laid. He was starting to care about what they thought, starting to think that there were moments he liked being… Cherry. But that was ridiculous. It was like… Stockholm Syndrome – latching onto them, because they were all he had left. That had to be it.

“Yeah,” Pogue said, softly. “He really loves you.”

Chase closed his eyes. So soon he could deliver the killing blow. Focus on that. In two weeks it would be the Christmas Ball, and he could crush the covenant forever. Revenge, Chase. Focus on the revenge.

“I know,” he murmured, but he just couldn’t manage to look smug.

 

\---


	3. Eyes On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month ago, Caleb killed Chase. He's come back from the dead to destroy Caleb completely - by making him fall in love with him. The only problem is, Chase didn't exactly expect to like being in love.

**Title:** Eyes On Fire  
 **Author:** [](http://sparrowshellcat.livejournal.com/profile)[**sparrowshellcat**](http://sparrowshellcat.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** The Covenant  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Chase Collins/Caleb Danvers  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Words:** 21,025  
 **Warnings:** MC with deep-seated abandonment and gender issues. Self-inflicted verbal abuse.

**Summary:** A month ago, Caleb killed Chase. He's come back from the dead to destroy Caleb completely - by making him fall in love with him. The only problem is, Chase didn't exactly expect to like being in love.

  


“Caleb William Danvers, I am going to trip if you don’t move your hands.”

Caleb laughed, and his hands stayed firmly over Chase’s eyes. They were stumbling through drifts of snow towards – well, _something_ – and Chase was forced to hold onto Caleb’s forearms to keep himself steadied, his wool mitten’d fingers wrapped around the other’s arms. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

“Good thing I wore boots, cause I’m pretty sure we’re going to an igloo somewhere,” he griped. “Are we in Alaska?”

There was a quick press of warm lips to his cold cheek, then Caleb dropped his hands. “Take a look.”

Opening his eyes – for once in his damn life Chase hadn’t peeked – he found himself staring at a startling slight, mouth falling open in shock. The Danvers property had a small lake house out back, presumably like a little cottage when the rich folks got tired of living inside the massive house only 500 yards away. But there was a large pond between them and the house, hence why it was the “lake house”. Caleb had strung white Christmas lights all along the edges of the house – windows, doors, eaves, everything. They glowed warm and heavenly as the snow drifted slowly around the little house.

“It’s like something out of a movie!” he gasped, blurting it out.

“You like?” Caleb grinned, taking his hands. “C’mon inside, it’s even nicer in there.”

Stepping through the doors, he grinned. “You like?”

Chase clapped his hands over his mouth to keep himself from yelping or doing something otherwise equally stupid. There was a large fireplace in the corner, with a roaring fire in it, which was naturally the first thing he saw. Caleb had remembered. Second was the nearly hundreds of candles, all thick yellowish massive things, burning cheerfully, giving the room a soft firey glow. (Had he known, he would have realized that Caleb had actually taken candles that were normally reserved for the meeting room under the old Danvers homestead.) And on the table, which had been carefully set with fine china and a white tablecloth, was a dinner – spaghetti, garlic bread, and Cesar salad, from the looks of it. The standard old clichéd “boyfriend is trying really hard” dinner.

“Caleb!”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed, and Caleb kissed him again. “C’mon, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

The dinner wasn’t even the slightest bit cold, which told Chase clear as day that Caleb had used to make the stupid thing stay warm, which was simultaneously the lamest and most idiotically sweet thing that any witch could ever do with magic. But it wasn’t half bad, and the flickering flames around them made him feel kind of… mellow, and happy, and he found himself smiling at Caleb across the table all too often.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Cherry,” Caleb murmured, as he poured them another glass of wine. Strawberry, sweet, bubbly.

“Crash and burn,” Chase smirked, sipping at his glass. “Wait, do you do that even when I _am_ around, too?”

He laughed, genuinely happy.

_I have_ so _got him under my control._

“Sometimes,” Caleb smiled, playing with Chase’s fingers. “So… Cherry. I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.” He smirked. He was getting good at this.

The other nodded, and slid out of his seat. For an honest moment, Chase had no idea what he was about to do, and was about ready to bolt when Caleb dropped down to one knee beside the table, and said softly, “I love you, Cherry.”

“Oh my god,” he murmured, eyes wide.

He’d known that he’d broken through the witch’s shell, he knew that he had, in fact, gotten his trust, his heart, his soul, his fucking _balls_ if he wanted, but if Caleb was seriously doing what it looked like he was doing – oh god, he was, there comes the ring box… Chase couldn’t _believe_ his skills. Fuck, he was _good_!

“Cherry Maria Pope… will you marry me?”

He laughed, and threw himself down to the ground with Caleb, throwing his arms around his shoulders and knocking him to the ground as he kissed him firmly. He knew it was a terribly girly reaction, but by _god_ , he’d managed to make the witch love him so much he was willing to _marry_  him?! “Of course I will, dummy. I don’t even care that you clearly went into my student file to find my middle name.”

Caleb laughed, and fumbled with the box to tug out a ring – white gold instead of the more traditional yellow, designed with filigree work and a blue white diamond in it – and slipped it clumsily onto Chase’s left ring finger.

“It looks like something out of Lord of the Rings,” he laughed, considering the way the candle flames glinted in the stone.

“I wanted something a little different for you. Since you’re so different.” He smiled, and kissed him. “Do you like it, even though it looks like something Lady Galadriel would wear?”

Chase smirked, kissing him back, eagerly. “Galadriel was hot.”

He snorted, then murmured, “C’mon, let’s get off the cold floor.”

“But I have you pinned,” Chase smirked, and kissed him again, a little more firmly.

“True,” he panted. “But it’d be nicer to be pinned on the rug.”

“Good point.” He stood, and tugged the other up after him, then pushed him down on the thick fur rug in front of the fireplace. Once Caleb was on his back, Chase lowered down to straddle his thighs, resting back as he considered the witch under him, holding him still with his legs. Caleb wouldn’t realize this, of course, but this was exactly how they were sitting in that bathroom, months ago. Shifting forward a little, Chase pressed his lips down to Caleb’s again, smirking. Even with all that terrible fake Italian food taste, he could still taste the faint touch of cherry lip balm and apples.

“Cherry…” Caleb murmured, resting his hands on his hips.

Oh fuck it, it wasn’t as though this was going to really get any sweeter.

Chase leaned back enough to start unbuttoning his shirt, smirking a little as he wiggled where he sat. Even stuck in a chick’s body, there was nothing saying he couldn’t be in charge.

“What are you – ?” Caleb started, breathless.

“That should be obvious, I would think,” he tossed his blouse aside, then bent to kiss him again, sliding up his body like a snake, and murmured, “Isn’t it, Caleb?”

“Mmm, yes, it is,” he murmured, tugging him closer.

 

\---

  


Chase slumped to sit on the end of ‘his’ bed with a thump. His hair was a royal mess, his makeup was smudged, and he wasn’t even wearing _his_ shirt – this one was Caleb’s. Toeing off his shoes, he sighed, and glanced at his hand again, as though sure that the stupid silver and shine would be gone. But no, there it was, plain as day, the damn ring.

Sure, he’d won. Sure, he’d proven that he could make his worst enemy trust him. Sure, he’d proved he was the better man by being skilled enough to make his worst enemy _love_ him – and all while trapped inside the skin of a woman. Yeah, he was talented, and smart, and powerful, and wasn’t he great at manipulation and trickery and acting and forcing down his nausea.

But now he was engaged.

To said worst enemy.

And to make it worse, a twisted little bit of his mind was saying “Don’t betray him, Chase”.

And _no_ , it was not the same little twisted part of him that was still buzzing happily about the fact that he’d gotten laid. Although fine, Caleb was pretty damn good at that for a worst enemy, that wasn’t the point. He should have been doing this with him for weeks, actually – it was pretty damn good, having sex as a woman. Or maybe that was because this was the first time in his life he’d bottomed? Either way, _physically_ he felt great.

Mentally… he was a wreck.

His instincts were at war with his desires, and no matter which won, he was starting to think that he was going to be the one that lost.

Flopping back on the bed, he keened, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. He should have used a different method of torturing Caleb. This was the stupidest idea in the world. Sure, it would be devastating to Caleb for him to betray him now, but… it would be devastating for _Chase_ , too.

“No, I told you, this is just Stockholm Syndrome,” he told himself, firmly. “Don’t get weak, Chase. As soon as you’re away from him, you’ll go back to normal. Got it?”

He sighed. He didn’t get it.

 

\---

  


Caleb’s bed was tiny, but apparently that just meant that they could fit better on it (according to Caleb) and there they lay, staring up at the ceiling. Chase had one of Caleb’s much bigger hands resting just below his breasts, and played idly with his fingers as they lay there, silent except for the music Caleb had put on a while ago.

It was _comfortable_ , which it shouldn’t be.

But it just was.

Chase closed his eyes, lacing his fingers with Caleb’s, imagining what this would be like, exactly this, if he was still _himself._ He’d pictured it before, honestly, because Caleb really _had_ been just his type. But relationships aren’t exactly the sort of thing that a vengeance obsessed teenager was terribly good at maintaining. So turning himself into Cherry had somehow made this possible.

Running his fingers through Chase’s hair, Caleb hummed, and asked softly, “Whatcha thinking about, Cherry?”

He twisted, dislodging the other’s hands as he leaned over him, frowning slightly as his hair tumbled down to brush the other’s chest. “Caleb? Who was Chase Collins?”

Caleb blinked up at him, surprised. “What?”

“Chase Collins.” He prompted. He had to know. “Who was he?”

The other hesitated, and for a moment, he thought he’d pushed too far. He’d avoided speaking about his old life to Caleb once for fear that Caleb would put two and two together and notice that his mannerisms were the same, or something. He was about to take it back when Caleb spoke.

“Chase Collins was a student who died a few months ago,” he murmured. “He was a friend of mine. Not always a _great_ friend, I mean… he had his flaws. We… fought, the night he died.”

Chase slowly sat properly, one hand curled in a loose fist on Caleb’s stomach, watching him.

“He had a tough life.” Caleb murmured. “His mother gave him up for adoption when he was a kid, and I don’t think he even remembers her. He was adopted, but… when he finally met his real father… I don’t think it was what he expected. His father was… bitter and angry, and… he kinda… passed a family vendetta onto him. Not fair to a child, if you ask me.”

He frowned, brows furrowing. No, that wasn’t true. His father had only wanted him to know his birthright.

Right?

“Then his adoptive parents died, and…” Caleb sighed. “I thought he could have really benefitted from some therapy, you know?” he laughed softly. “I’m not saying he wasn’t a good guy. He was just… misguided, a little twisted because people had lied to him for so long. And we fought over that, over some stupid little thing someone had lied to him about, and then… everything else happened.”

“You don’t hate him?” he asked, brows furrowing.

“…no. He _was_ my friend.” He smiled faintly, rubbing the back of Chase’s hand with his thumb. “Caught me off guard, when I found out everything else. But we’ve put that behind us, we’re focusing on the good, now.”

“What if Chase wasn’t dead?”

“He is, though,” Caleb laughed softly, kissing the other’s hand.

“No, I mean… what if. What if after even all of that, the fight, and the betrayal, and the… the lies… what if he walked in this room right now, and said that he was sorry.” Chase really wasn’t even sure why he was asking this. It was like grasping at straws of hope that he had no reason to hold to. No _right_ to hold to. _Stockholm Syndrome_ , he reminded himself. “What would you do?”

He hesitated. “I dunno.”

“C’mon, Caleb… if he came in and said, ‘I was wrong, I want to be your friend again’. What would you do?”

Eyes sort of distant, he murmured, “Honestly? I might… I’d ask him why he did it. And maybe… maybe I’d be his friend again. Dunno if I could ever _trust_ him again, though.”

“You’re that innocent, huh?” Chase murmured, running his fingers down Caleb’s jaw, setting his hand against his face the way he had, once before, while he crouched over him and demanded the other’s power. “You really think you could ever be friends again, that after all of that… you could be brothers?”

Caleb looked up at him, seriously. “We were connected to him, Cherry. We were family. You can’t just throw family away.”

He blinked, surprised to find that his eyes were wet. “His did.”

“C’mere…” he tugged him down, and Chase actually let the other curl him against his chest, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as Caleb stroked his back, softly. “I know they did, and they shouldn’t have. I just wish he’d given us the chance to explain things to him, properly, before… everything.”

Fingers tangled in Caleb’s shirt, heart torn and chest sore, Chase murmured, “Sometimes I wish you had too.”

\---

 

Chase glowered at his own reflection, displeased.

“I feel like the sugar plum fairy.”

“You don’t look like her,” Evelyn smiled softly, still fussing with Chase’s hair, which had taken way too long to do considering it was supposed to look like very little had been done to it. Really, in the end, the only big deal was that the front bits had been pulled back and pinned into crystal covered snowflake shaped barrettes. Simple. “You look lovely.”

“I have thirteen metres of crinoline under this skirt,” he patted the silky fabric, which dipped under his hand, then poofed back out again. “That seems like overkill.”

“But the sugar plum fairy could never afford that much crinoline,” Evelyn smiled, fussing with the ribbons that laced up the back of the champagne coloured dress. “Plums don’t sell that well, and sugar plums do even worse in today’s market.”

He snorted.

“All right, sweetheart, stand up, let me see you.”

Chase stood, reluctantly, turning to face her, feeling like an overdone idiot.

“Beautiful,” she smiled, cupping Chase’s face in her hands, smiling softly up at him. “My dear, you look as radiant today as I hope you’ll look on your wedding day.”

He flushed. “Well, I – “

“He asked me, did he tell you that, before he asked you?” she smirked slightly, stepping back to retrieve a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. “If I liked you. I told him it was hardly my decision… but that I thought you were perfect for him. You and Caleb will have a lot of hard decisions to make in the time coming.”

“Blue or green for wedding colours, and where to sit people at the tables?” he smirked, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

“No.” Evelyn smiled sadly at him. “Something much bigger. He’ll tell you.”

“Sure…” he frowned.

“Speaking of… I believe my son has been waiting impatiently outside the door for the last ten minutes. Caleb! Come and see.”

The door opened, and Caleb, dressed in a sharp – and expensive – Italian suit, stepped inside. He whistled, eyes flicking appreciatively over Chase, making him wish that he was still… _him_. “Wow. Cherry, you are… wow.”

“Mmm. My son. The poet.” Evelyn laughed, then slipped past him. “You two need to leave in half an hour, don’t forget!”

Caleb rolled his eyes, and gently pushed the door shut. “Yeah, thanks mother.”

“Are you planning on forgetting?” Chase smirked.

“No, but… we do need to talk,” Caleb took his hand, and tugged Chase over to the couch, sitting down beside him, face very stern and serious.

“Are you calling off the engagement?” he arched a brow.

“God, no, never!” he yelped, surprised. “No, I – I have to tell you something, Cherry, and it’s very important. I shouldn’t really have even asked you to marry me before I told you this, just in case… it’s not… fair, really.”

He frowned, brows furrowed. Was he _seriously_ about to tell him what he thought he was about to?

“I’m a witch.”

Holy shit, he _was_ about to tell him that. Chase gaped at him, stunned. He knew he’d told Sarah, but she had figured it out. Chase as Cherry hadn’t even tried to imply anything. He’d been _good_.

“I know, believe me, I get that look. I wouldn’t believe me either. Just… hear me out. You know about the witch trials, right?”

He nodded, still speechless.

“They were real. The witches were real. There were five major families that started this town,” Caleb squeezed his hands, looking earnest. “And they were all witches, in a family Covenant of secrecy. This is absolutely real, Cherry, and absolutely secret. You can never tell anyone, you understand?”

“I – you’re kidding me.” He said, bluntly. He couldn’t believe Caleb was just _telling_ him like this.

“No. I’m not.”

Caleb’s eyes flared suddenly, flames sweeping across his eyes to sink them to black, then various items around the room began to float gently off their places, drifting lazily through the air. As a demonstration of power went, it was lame, but harmless.

“So why are you telling me this?” he asked. He wasn’t going to fake shocked and terrified. He didn’t do that.

“Because the power has a price,” he said, squeezing Chase’s hands, eyes fading back to normal. “The more I use, the faster I age. My father… my father died of old age in his forties.”

_Old age. Nice_.

“So don’t use.”

“It’s not that simple. It’s… addictive.” Caleb was massaging his hand, and Chase relaxed a little. _This_ was the explanation he wished he’d been given five years ago when his powers emerged. This was the kind of explanation someone needed. Calm, careful. Considerate. Not ‘You’re a freak and never do that again’, like he’d had.

Did he just resent them because they had what he wished he’d had? Was that it?

“And you need to know if I can accept this and stay by you.”

Caleb nodded, and Chase’s heart lurched.

“Of course,” he lied, sweetly, kissing the other again. “I love you, stupid.”

“Then why are you crying?” Caleb asked softly, fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket, and carefully dabbing at the tears, making sure not to smudge that stupid makeup Evelyn had insisted he wear.

_I’m not_ , he wanted to say. _Fuck you_ , he wanted to say. _Go to hell_ , he wanted to say. _Die_. _Screw yourself. Leave me alone. I’m going to destroy you. You son of a bitch. Your story forgot about the betrayal of my family and my death._

 Instead, he told him the truth.

“Because I love you, stupid.”

And because that didn’t change anything.

\---

 

The ball was, apparently, a smashing success.

So far.

The town hall was decorated with white streamers, balloons, and fairy lights. The live orchestra played expertly – definitely worth the ridiculous amount Caleb had paid for them – and couples dressed in their very finest danced. Caleb hadn’t been kidding when he said that everyone in the town came to this thing, and the more people he saw that he recognized, the more uncertain Chase became of his own convictions.

No, he reminded himself. He had to do this. For his father, and his father’s father, and further back than that. Hell, even for himself. Sure, Caleb and the others were nice to _Cherry_. But Chase…

Well. They’d been nice to him, too. For awhile.

He shook himself, trying to think about the next step, not about his ridiculous doubts.

“Cherry? Are you all right?”

He looked up, startled, and blinked at Caleb. “Yes, of course.”

“Are you sure?” he frowned, and touched his forehead lightly. “You look pale.”

“I said I’m fine.” He took a step back from him, looking away. “Can we get this… speech over with? I don’t want to drag it out.”

“You’re nervous, I get it,” he kissed his forehead, and Chase winced slightly. “It’ll be okay.”

_No. No, it won’t._

“C’mon,” he led him up onto the stage, and held up his hands, drawing the attention to himself, silence falling over the room. One of the musicians handed him a microphone, and Caleb smiled. “Thank you.”

Feedback echoed through the room for a moment, and they all collectively winced before Caleb pulled it away from his mouth and laughed awkwardly. “Sorry about that, not used to giving public speeches.” There was polite clapping, then he smiled, resting his arm on Chase’s shoulder. “I would like to thank you all for coming to this year’s Christmas Charity Ball. I would like to announce that this was our biggest year yet, with a stunning eighty three thousand dollars raised!”

A cheer came up from somewhere in the crowd, and everyone laughed and smiled and whispered to their friends as they clapped.

Chase swallowed.

“Of course, we will be matching the donation, and worthwhile local charities will be getting an amazing boost this year, thanks to all of you. Give yourselves a hand!”

The roar of applause got louder.

“Now, I have one more announcement…”

“Caleb, I have one first,” Chase interrupted him, and he hesitated before offering him the microphone. “No thank you. I don’t need that.”

Chase stepped forward, skirts swirling, and his voice rose, louder than it should have, naturally, and his confidence rose as he finally used magic, feeling it crackling down his veins like fire. He’d been too careful for too long. It was time to break the seal and let forth the magic, the power. “People of Ipswich. You have all been deceived. You thought that you had solved your problem hundreds of years ago. But this is not true. Your problem lingers.”

“Cherry?” Caleb asked, softly.

He ignored him, and his voice rose louder. “John Putnam was a witch.”

Gasps met this announcement, and Caleb was pale, but he pushed on. “And he was killed for being one. By his friends. The Garwins. The Parrys. The Simms. And the Danvers. Who were also witches, as were their sons, and their son’s sons, until the present day, when stand among you their descendants. _Witches_.”

“Cherry!” Caleb cried, but he just bared his teeth at him, and he hesitated, startled.

“Cherry Pope does not exist.” He snapped. “I am Chase Collins Putnam. And three months ago, Caleb Danvers killed me when I tried to avenge the indignities done to my family line. I returned, and I am here to tell you the truth.” His eyes flared black, and Caleb let out a broken cry. It should have made him celebrate. It made his insides clench, painfully. “I too am a witch. But this failed Covenant of silence is a _joke_. These boys have abused their powers and lived among you trying to be normal. They are the threat that lives among you!” Flames burst up around the edges of the room, making the place dance in a bright red, macabre painted light for a moment, then they subsided as he continued. “They can do _anything_ , and you couldn’t resist it! They have _limitless_ power that they have used on all of you!”

The room was silent, like the grave, as he panted, watching them. Somehow, he’d expected… well, he didn’t know what, exactly. Screaming, maybe? Anger? Torches and pitchforks? Anything but _silence_.

“How could you – “ Caleb whispered.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Chase snapped. “I’m not _Cherry_. I’m _Chase_. And you have no covenant of silence anymore!”

“I thought you _loved_ – “

He let out a shout of frustration, fists clenched, eyes still black. “No! Don’t you get it, Caleb?!”

Caleb staggered back, a look of confusion flickering across his face.

“We’re _witches_ , Caleb… we have limitless power. Why are we _lying to ourselves_?!” he howled, and the flames around the room flared again as he stomped a foot, fists clenched. Dressed like this, he felt like a petulant princess screaming that she wasn’t allowed to take the chariot out to the ball, or something. “Why are we lying to them?! Good god, we could rule this town! We can do _anything_!”

“That’s not what we do!” he hissed, eyes narrowed, flaring black.

“That’s what we _should_ be doing!” Chase roared. “You _killed_ me! All because I wanted to do what we were _made_ to do!”

“I killed _Chase_ because he tried to kill innocent people and steal my power! He was lied to and he made stupid decisions!” Outside the hall, a storm was starting to rage, and the murmur in the crowd shifted slightly as people shifted away from the windows, where rain was slamming against the glass. “You _are not him_!”

“Are you kidding?! I have _boobs_ , that’s the only difference!”

“Maybe that’s why I fell in love with you, then!” Caleb roared. “Because you were still a damn good person!”

Chase blinked, reeling back, confused. “What?”

“You heard me,” Caleb growled, swiping at his face, quickly. “You think you’re such a terrible person, such a freak, or something. You’ve just made _stupid_ choices.”

Taking another step back, he blinked, speechless.

“Is that it?”

They both snapped to look at the speaker. The mayor stood at the edge of the stage, frowning, arms crossed.

“What?” Chase asked, stunned.

“Is that it? Is that all? They’re _witches_ , with a ‘covenant of silence’?” The mayor scoffed. “And?”

“ _And_? _And_?!” he took a half step forward. “They - they could make your heart stop with a thought! They could blow up this building without even blinking! _I_ can do that!”

“I know.” He frowned. “But they won’t. And they won’t let you do that, either. You don’t understand, Miss… what is it, Putnam? We know. We have _always_ known.”

Caleb made a soft, strangled sound, pale and horrified looking.

The man shook his head. “They don’t know how to _hide_. They use magic in plain sight, in front of people all the time. They fly _cars_ , and cause storms for fun, and throw themselves off of cliffs just so they can show off that they can stop before they crunch. They blow up cars, they fix cars, they heal outrageously fast from life threatening injuries. Reid Garwin’s father used to use magic to cheat at _poker_ at the local bar. Pogue Parry’s grandfather rebuilt his mansion in _two days_ after a lightning storm burned it down. We’re not _stupid_.”

Chase sat on the edge of the stage. Not really because he wanted to. More because his legs just wouldn’t support himself anymore. “…what?”

“But we aren’t about to disrupt that, either. Do you understand, what it means, to have witches in your town?” he stepped closer to the stage, glancing between stunned Chase and shell shocked Caleb. “Our fisheries have never run dry. All along the coast, they are. We never get extreme storms, like other places on the ocean do. Our crops have never failed. Last year, when town hall caught on fire, Caleb Danvers put it out. We live and let live. So long as you witches don’t use to hurt anyone… we _look the other way_. And we will continue to do so.”

“What?” Caleb looked at him, sharply.

“This never happened.” He shrugged. “The press will never hear, no internet viral campaign will go out. You _five_ are not the ones with the Covenant of Silence. We are. We protect _you_.”

“But…” Chase murmured.

“Come the morning, we’ll have forgotten this. I suggest you do the same.” He paused, then glanced at Caleb. “And I’d choose your friends better, if I were you.”

He choked, a soft sob, then Chase’s eyes flared black again, and the smoke pulled him away again before he disappeared.

 

\---

  


Lying in the ashes of Putnam barn, dress spread across the snow and soot like a crumpled pair of fallen wings, Chase sobbed, face a sooty mess as he dug through the snow to the black below, and curled in the ashes, as though he was returning to his mother’s arms.

He’d failed.

Not only had he failed to destroy the Covenant, he’d ended up destroying himself. He’d been right when he’d thought it was going too far. For god’s sake, he had _finally_ had the life he should have had all along, and because of this _stupid_ goddamn _plan_ … he’d actually made things worse. For _himself_.

So much for sweet revenge.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Chase looked up, sharply, startled as Evelyn Danvers, of all people, knelt in the show beside him. She looked tired, weary. Rough around the edges.

“What are you doing here?” he cried, scrambling up. “I could kill – “

“I know, but you won’t.” the woman sighed, considering him. “Chase, is it? Chase Putnum?”

He flinched, standing.

“Don’t leave yet.” She murmured. “I may be an old mortal perfectly normal human woman, no witch in me at all, but I’m not stupid. You tried to kill my son. And I spoke to my husband, and demanded he will his own life to Caleb. By all rights, I should want you dead. But I don’t. Do you know why?”

He hesitated. “Because your son loves me?”

She snorted. “At the moment, Caleb is extremely angry with you. So no, that’s not why. It’s because you didn’t know any better. Did you know if you just… asked… the boys would have accepted you? They don’t hold their ancestors grudges, except when someone tries to kill them and hurt their families for no bloody reason.”

Chase looked away, face burning.

“I do suggest you go away for awhile.” Evelyn murmured. “Pogue will never forgive you. Reid and Tyler… it’s iffy. Caleb _will_ , if you give him time.”

“I’m not coming back.” He said, firmly.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Evelyn stood, considering him. “Goodbye, Chase.”

He flinched away from her, and disappeared again, magic blasting across the clearing.

Evelyn sighed, shaking her head, and worked back through the snow to her car.

 

\---

  


“I hate you,” Chase whispered, leaning over Caleb’s narrow bed, fingertips reaching out to almost touch his face, then tugged his hands back to himself. “How could you do this to me?”

Caleb shifted in his sleep, rolling onto his back. There were dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and his pillow was still wet.

Opening his fingers, Chase hesitated. He’d taken off the ring, and it sat in his palm, silvery glinty despite the soot smudged all over it. He was going to leave it on the bed side table, just to show him that it was done, that he had accepted his decision, that it was over, but…

Chase hesitated, then slid the ring back on his finger, and bent to kiss Caleb’s lips softly.

“Mmm…” the sleeping man shifted softly, sighing.

His face crumpled, and he disappeared again, soot drifting down to rest on the blankets.

 

\---

  


It had seemed a good idea to return to New York. To start a new life.

Standing in front of a hotel mirror, Chase tried again and again and again to use to turn himself back into – well, _himself_ – but the only thing that happened was that his female body aged just the tiniest bit each time, and he couldn’t do it. He _couldn’t do it_.

He didn’t understand it. It had been so _easy_ last time, to snap a few bones, to change a few things… it should be easy to change back.

_Why wasn’t it working_?

 

\---

  


Spring was breaking over Ipswich, snow melting, crocuses and robins emerging into the sunny morning as Caleb hurried down the stairs.

“I’m coming!” he called to the insistent knocking on the front door, swinging it open.

He froze.

Chase Collins Putnam – Cherry Pope – whatever the hell you wanted to call him or her, stood on his front porch. Her hair was tugged up into a ponytail, the diamond was still glittering on her finger, and she stood with one hand on her belly – round and heavily pregnant.

“We need to talk.”

 

 


End file.
